


An apple a day (timestamps)

by olympia_m



Series: An apple a day [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, M/M, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:43:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympia_m/pseuds/olympia_m
Summary: I didn't have these in my HD but MoonlightBlizzard found the LJ links...  So, more bad stuff, more domestic fluff, more weird characterisations





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't have these in my HD but MoonlightBlizzard found the LJ links... So, more bad stuff, more domestic fluff, more weird characterisations

Raphael thinks that clubs like the Hunters’ Lodge are pointless. Even though the games they play inside are rough, too rough sometimes for Gabriel’s taste, there are never any deaths within the premises, and slaves are always looked after at the end of a scene. A Hunter is a cruel, but fair Master. 

Even though Gabriel disapproves completely of his brother’s callousness, he doesn’t understand either how anyone could subject his slave to this. He supposes if he were to define himself, it would be as a ‘sensual Dom’. He likes to tie up his slaves and make them cry out in pleasure. He likes champagne baths and chocolate sauce, feathers and maybe a touch of ice and wax, but nothing more than that. 

The idea of throwing his slave into a pit with four complete strangers, have him stripped and beaten, not spanked, but punched and kicked, until the slave is so limp he has to be dragged up against a St Andrew’s cross, tied up and whipped, is strange to him. 

“You don’t enjoy the show,” Balthazar tells him as he refills his glass. They’re in a private booth on the balcony, having one of the best views in the house. Balthazar, true to form, has put him together with a complete stranger, and so Gabriel had no choice but to watch the spectacle.

“If that were my slave, I’d use whipped cream on him, not whips.”

Balthazar laughs. “Of course you would. Dean, what do you think? Would you let Bunny be covered in whipped cream next time you bring him, and give him over to Gabriel?”

For the first time since Balthazar showed him his seat, he observes his booth-mate. Dean is a tall, handsome man in a plain flannel shirt and jeans. He looks affable, with small laughter lines around his eyes, and a full, generous mouth. He looks nothing like a sexual sadist. But then again, who would have thought what Raphael likes just by looking at him? 

“I’ll think about it,” Dean says. “I wonder if this was a bit too much,” he mutters as one of the men attaches wires on the slave’s balls. 

“You have gone soft, Dean, if you worry so much.”

“I haven’t,” Dean protests, but his jaw clenches when one of the men turns a switch and the slave’s scream pierces the air. 

Gabriel refuses to watch. This is torture, pure and simple, and he feels a little sick for accepting Balthazar’s invitation. Even his girl’s sweet, hot mouth on his dick can’t stop him from wincing every time the slave screams.

“If you haven’t, you have to prove it to me,” Balthazar taunts Dean. “When we’re finished with Bunny, will you show me that you still have it?”

“I will, damnit.”

“Good.” 

Gabriel doesn’t like the slickness in Balthazar’s voice. “Dean may be tough, but you know me. I don’t have the stomach for this.”

“Nonsense.” Balthazar’s hand is heavy on his shoulder, his expression impish when he moves into Gabriel’s field of vision. “If you couldn’t stand this, you wouldn’t be here. Oh, look.”

Gabriel does. If he thought the slave was limp before, then how could he describe him now? Utterly pliant, he collapses on the floor when they release him, and offers no resistance when they fuck him roughly. It’s fast and brutal, and anti-climactic when they come. Gabriel is about to make a snarky remark, when three of the men, gathered around the slave, piss on him for what seems like forever, and one of them forces his mouth open and pisses there. 

Dean groans beside him like a man about to cum, and Gabriel feels ill. A golden shower or two never hurt anyone, but he likes his partners a bit more willing. Dean, though, is watching with eyes blown with lust until the lights dim and fade, and there’s nothing more to see.

“I’ll take care of Bunny,” Balthazar says, tapping Dean on the shoulder, “so, why don’t you go tell Rachel that you’ll be showing us what you can do next?” Balthazar’s smile is evil. “I have a surprise for you.”

Dean goes, muttering curses under his breath, while Balthazar finally sits down. 

“I don’t get it,” Gabriel says. “Pain. That was torture.”

“That was character building.” 

“Bullshit.” He pushes his girl away and tucks himself in. “It killed my erection. I demand compensation.”

Balthazar laughs. “And you will have it, then. What do you want?” 

“One more girl. And a strap on.”

“You got it.” He gets up, fills Gabriel’s glass one more time, and pats the girl on the head. “I’ll bring you a blonde. It will match this brunette nicely.”

“Yeah, you do that.” God, how does he get into these situations? As if he doesn’t know by now what kind of party Balthazar throws. When he goes home, he’ll lie down on his fur-covered bed, and have both his girls lick him all over until Balthazar’s oily words are cleaned off his skin. If only Balthazar didn’t think Gabriel’s limits needed expanding. There was no need for that. 

When Balthazar comes back, he not only has a most gorgeous, petite brunette following him, but a dark-haired slave wrapped in a white, fluffy robe. “Gabriel, this is Ruby.”

“Hello, there. Ruby, say ‘hi’ to Lena.” 

Ruby licks his lips. “Hi, Lena.”

“You girls are going to be such great friends,” he says, grinning. “Lena, why don’t you show Ruby how happy you are to see her?”

Lena purrs as she advances towards Ruby, and Ruby throws back her hair, and thrusts out her chest. Her breasts are small, the right size for a hand to grasp, and Lena realises that immediately. She kisses Ruby and grabs her tits with both hands, making Ruby shudder and moan happily. Ruby’s hands find Lena’s tits soon after, and Gabriel grins as the two of them fondle each other, while kissing. Both seem equally aggressive, and Gabriel thinks he should make them wrestle next. 

“And that’s Bunny, I presume?” Gabriel then asks.

“Indeed,” Balthazar answers, as the slave blushes deeply. Balthazar sits down, and pulls Bunny on his lap. Gabriel expects him to kiss the slave, who’s at that awkward stage when he’s not yet a man, but he’s not a boy either, but Balthazar just holds him, and pets his hair. He doesn’t object when the slave gathers his robe tightly around him, and when the slave hides his face on the crook of his neck, Balthazar just smiles, and keeps on petting him.

“I don’t get it. If you’re so fond of him, then why do you torture him? Girls, slow down, we have all night.”

Lena pouts, and goes back to kissing Ruby in the mouth, instead of the breasts. Ruby doesn’t stop fingering herself, though.

“Bunny? Want to tell Sir Gabriel why?” Balthazar orders the slave softly. “In fact, why don’t you go and sit on Sir Gabriel?”

Bunny stares at Balthazar, tilting his head a little. 

“Balthazar,” he hisses, but Balthazar makes a dismissive gesture and instead of waiting for either Bunny to move, or Gabriel to object further, he lifts Bunny and places him on Gabriel’s lap. “I’ll kill you,” he mutters.

“Just hold him and pet him, Gabriel. I swear, it’s like the best drug. His hair is so soft,” he says dreamily as he gets up. 

Bunny stares at Gabriel and, even though he’s close to becoming a man, he looks at him like a child, expectantly and without expectations at the same time. 

“Right, let’s see how we can do this,” he mutters more to himself, but then Bunny shifts and hugs him. “Wow, you’re an experienced snuggler, aren’t you?” 

Bunny nods, and his hair is amazingly soft when it brushes against Gabriel’s neck. When Buny shivers, Gabriel hugs him back. 

“So, why ... I suppose you have no choice in the matter but... I really don’t get it.”

“Because it’s my birthday,” Bunny whispers. “Master Dean says that every year that I’m older, I can take more, more pain, more humiliation, more....” Bunny shudders. “It’s His gift to me, to show me what I can accomplish.”

That’s... Gabriel closes his eyes tightly, and holds Bunny closer. 

“And how old are you now?” 

“Sixteen.”

When he was sixteen, his parents had bought him a car. At seventeen, his own condo. People like Dean or his brother? He’ll never understand them. He glances at Ruby and Lena, and even their languid kisses and soft touches can’t arouse him. “It’s useless,” he tells them. “Have some champagne.”

“If this is how you celebrate your birthday, I’m scared to ask how you celebrate your Master’s,” Gabriel snorts. 

Bunny hugs him more tightly. “Where is Master?”

The lights are beginning to get brighter down. “There. You must turn around, if you want to watch him.”

Bunny nods, and shifts again. Gabriel is beginning to get Balthazar’s behavior, though. Bunny is yielding beautifully, he’s soft all over, and his eyes are a gorgeous blue. Oh, how would have this boy thrived under the guidance of someone like him. Gabriel would keep him in silks, wrap him in furs, hand-feed him rare and tasty morsels.

Dean is standing over a masked slave who’s spread-eagled on the floor. He looks quite Masterful, Gabriel has to admit, calm, steady, in control. Then Dean brings his boot down on the slave’s stomach, and Gabriel flinches. So does Bunny. 

Dean then kneels between the slave’s legs, makes his hand into a fist and hits the slave’s balls. First he is slow, barely making the slave whimper, but then he is faster and faster, hitting him harder every time, making him scream and jerk in his bonds. It’s brutal and crude, but effective. Ten minutes later Dean gets up, but he’s still not done. The next round of hits comes with his booted foot, and the slave howls with pain. 

Bunny can’t watch after that, and Gabriel doesn’t blame him. The girls, though, are another matter. Ruby is rubbing her clit, while Lena is fucking herself with the dildo. They’re both watching avidly as the slave is then turned around and Dean puts a latex glove, and pours lube all over it. The slave moans when he is finally breached. 

When Dean’s whole hand is inside the slave, the slave starts groaning and wiggling his ass, and throwing his head back as if in ecstasy. So are the girls, who have discovered a double-ended dildo from god knows where, and are busy entertaining themselves. It seems that only Bunny and he can’t enjoy the proceedings, Bunny looking too shocked to see what his Master could do, and Gabriel because fisting has never been a thing of his. 

“We’re clearly not needed here,” he grins at Bunny. 

Bunny nods very seriously. 

“Ouch,” Gabriel says, wincing and squeezing Bunny a little too tightly. “He’s going for both hands now.”

“Ouch,” Bunny agrees with him, looking pale.

“Here, have some water.” 

“Thank you, Sir Gabriel.”

“You are far too cute,” he says, flicking a finger on Bunny’s nose, making him smile. Really, if the slave were his, Gabriel wouldn’t let him out of his sight, and would only let gentle and playful lovers touch him. Even Lena, with all her aggressiveness, is nothing like those thugs that ‘played’ with Bunny earlier. “Do you have a name? Or does your Master call you Bunny?” 

“My name is Castiel, Sir Gabriel. Master calls me ‘Cas’,” he says almost proudly.

“That... that was your given name or...”

“My parents gave me that name before they abandoned me,” he says matter-of-factly. “It’s in my birth certificate.”

Gabriel is happy that the slave is there and he can hold on to him. Perhaps... “Where you born here, or...?”

“Here, at the Bethlehem Maternity Hospital.” 

Gabriel nods. “Haha, we’re from the same city, then.”

Castiel stares at him, and Gabriel feels like the boy can see through his fake smile, and his bad joke. “Indeed, Sir Gabriel,” Castiel says with just the tiniest snort. Then they both hear the slave down at the pit scream again, not in pleasure, but pain, and while Gabriel shuts his eyes, Castiel hides his face on the crook of Gabriel’s neck. “I want to go home,” he mumbles, sounding exhausted.

Gabriel wants to throw up, but instead he holds Castiel tighter against him. Sixteen years ago, Mother gave Gabriel a baby brother. But since they already had the heir Michael and the spare Raphael, and even the third one Gabriel in case anything happened to the other two, they decided not to keep him. It hadn’t been a matter of money; they had enough of that. It hadn’t been a question of Mother being unable to care for new baby; Mother had never cared for any of them personally. It was simply that a fourth son was not needed, and so they cast him out. 

But even if his suspicions are proved right (and that glass is coming with him), then what? Although the idea of killing Mother with embarrassment at the revelation that her child not only survived, but became a sex slave too, is appealing, he knows his family. Michael and Raphael would bury the scandal, and Castiel, maybe Gabriel too, with it. He knows himself; he’s not strong enough to confront them directly, make them acknowledge Castiel and give him his freedom. 

But perhaps he’s just making a huge fuss out of nothing. Why is being so sentimental about it? It’s not like he knows Castiel, or ever had a baby brother. He’s never missed him before. Except when Michael and Raphael ganged up on him because he was the baby of the family, and he wished either for someone to side with him, or someone younger he could torment. What does he care if this is his brother or not?


	2. Chapter 2

Dean doesn’t mind that Cas is finding comfort in the arms of a stranger, but he’s much happier when Cas is in his arms. “He’s fallen asleep,” the guest tells him with a smile as he hands Cas over carefully.

Dean nods. “Yes, he’s probably tired.” But instead of letting Cas sleep, he nudges him a little. “Wake up, baby.”

“Master?” Cas whispers and blinks at him. “Can we go home now?”

“Soon, baby, soon.” 

Cas frowns, far more awake now. “Yes, Master.”

Dean sighs. “Balthazar was right; I have become soft.” He moves Castiel off him, and makes him stand between his legs. Cas’ glances down, at Dean’s erection, and face expressionless, starts sliding down on his knees. The guest gasps beside him, and Dean shakes his head. “No, Cas. Not now. Just, stand still.”

Cas obeys him, and so Dean unties his robe. Then he slips it off Cas slowly, revelling in the bruises on Cas’ skin. They’re everywhere; on his arms, his chest, his thighs. Dean turns him around and continues his inspection. More bruises are on Cas’ back, his buttocks are red and the fingerprints on his hips are evidence of how tightly they held on to him as they fucked him. 

“Such a brave boy,” he whispers, putting his hands on Cas’ waist, and kissing a bruise on Cas’ shoulder. “So, so good for me,” he continues, kissing a different bruise each time he speaks, tightening his grip each time Cas winces. “So beautiful. So good. So sweet. Tell me, Cas, what did they tell you when they fucked you?” 

“That I was a good slut,” Cas says, lowering his head. “That I had a sweet hole and they couldn’t wait to fuck me. That I was made to be fucked.”

The guest next to Dean stares at them in shock, but the brunette looks up at Cas’ face, and her expression is one of delight. The blonde girl licks her lips, and reaches for the guest’s cock. “Please, Master,” she mumbles before taking him deeply, with a moan of pleasure. 

Dean knows the feeling. To want something so badly you can taste it, and to be unable to stop, even if it will mean punishment later. He turns Cas around, smiling a little at the way he’s blushing. “But, you were made for this, Cas,” he tells him gently. “You were made for pleasure.”

Cas doesn’t look at him. 

Dean takes Cas’ balls in his hands, and Cas gasps pitifully. “Does it still hurt?”

“Yes, Master.”

Dean slides down and kneels in front of Cas. There’s not much light, but he can imagine the slightly reddened flesh where the electrodes were. “You know I would never let them hurt you, right?”

Cas snorts.

“Not permanently, I meant,” he laughs. “And not more than you can take.” He keeps his touch lighter than usual as he caresses Cas. “But you did take it, didn’t you? Because you’re stronger than you think, and I’ll show you that.” He kisses Cas’ stomach, where there is a boot-shaped bruise. “You’re my beautiful, brave Cas.” His next kiss is on the navel, and he swirls his tongue around the little hole. “No matter what people might think, you’re strong.” When he looks up, Cas stares at him full of trust and hope. “You didn’t cum, did you?”

“It hurt too much,” Cas says softly. 

Dean nods, and his next kiss is at the tip of Cas’ cock. The boy is still soft, but Dean doesn’t care. He pulls Cas closer to him, holds him steady with one hand, and with the other teases his balls. “You can touch me, if you want,” he says, seeing how Cas holds his arms carefully away from Dean. For a while that’s the last thing he says, too busy sucking and licking Cas’ dick, feeling him harden slowly. He does smile, though, when he feels Cas’ feather-light touch on his shoulders turn into an almost painful grip. 

God, how sweet does his Cas taste; he’s fresh and clean after the shower, and his flesh is warm and heavy against his tongue. How can he not spoil Cas when he himself is so spoiled by him? That drop of precum on Cas’ slit tastes better than any delicacy, and the way he slowly thickens inside Dean’s mouth more fulfilling than the best dish. But all of these are nothing next to the way Cas is trying so hard to be the best slave Dean ever had, submitting himself to anything Dean puts him through, and yet, there’s a spark inside him – not of rebellion, but independence. 

Dean, for the first time in his life, does not want to break his slave, and in doing so, he cannot break other slaves either. When Balthazar asked him to ruin that slave’s ass, and then castrate him, he could only go so far. A year ago, he would have done it with a smile on his face. But now, it’s like he sees Cas’ slightly confused and hurt expression (since Cas never disapproves; he doesn’t understand and he looks like Dean did not live up to the high standards Cas has of His Master), and he can’t do it. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs against the thick, pulsing shaft in his mouth, licks the top, and presses a finger against Cas’ opening. “Cum for me.”

His words are muffled and strangled, but Cas must hear him somehow, because he tenses, and his cum spurts bitter and hot inside Dean’s mouth. Dean sucks him dry, enjoying the tiny tremors that pass through Cas with every sweep of his tongue. 

“Such a darling,” he whispers when he finishes, placing one more kiss on Cas’ still twitching flesh. “Such a good boy.” He stands up, and hugs Cas. 

Cas touches Dean carefully. “Master?” 

“I can wait until we’re back, baby.” He smirks when he sees the man next to him writhing and about to cum, with the blonde still sucking his dick, and the brunette hiding his face between her tits. “Now, that’s an embarrassment of riches, don’t you think?”

Cas shrugs. 

“Would you like to have sex with one of them? A woman, I mean.”

Cas’ expression is one of pure terror. 

Dean laughs. “Maybe later? When you’re older?”

“Maybe never,” Cas mutters darkly. 

“I’m just saying.” He keeps his eyes on Cass, even as he can see the man and the two women sliding down and becoming a tangle of limbs and mouths. “Women are sweet.”

“Your slave only wants Master.”

He snorts. One day, his Cas will fly away. One day, Cas will want others, perhaps a woman with soft skin, perhaps a man with soft eyes. But until then, he will make sure than Cas never forgets him. “Let’s go home,” he says, pushing Cas towards the exit.

The other guest suddenly grasps Dean’s arm. “Sell me your slave,” he orders him.

“Get your own,” Dean snorts as he pushes his hand away. Even if Cas has made him soft, he’s still not getting rid of him. 

&*&*

Even so, Dean does not like being called soft. As he wakes up, his hard dick in Cas’ sweet mouth, he doesn’t feel happy as usual. Clearly, he has been far too lenient with him. But, damn, Cas is not just talented, he’s also had so much practice than he can make Dean come within minutes. Since it’s the first blowjob of the day, Dean lets him do it as he wants, but he can’t help wondering. This is a sign of weakness on his part, is it not? Letting his slave decide to suck or fuck, and how fast he’ll do it. 

“Cas,” he says when his heart-ate has gone down to normal, and Cas has licked him thoroughly clean, “did you prepare yourself this morning?”

“I did, Master.” Cas looks away, embarrassed for a moment. 

 

“Show me.”

Cas turns around, and spreads his ass cheeks. There’s just the tiniest hint of moisture on his hole, and when Dean touches it, his finger slides in easily. “You’re becoming loose,” he tells him, as if he doesn’t know that Cas had been fucked by four men the night before, and has just had two enemas. “Remember what the doctor had prescribed when I took you for your first check-up?”

Cas nods. 

“How long has it been since the last time I spanked you while you had an enema?” 

“Three weeks, Master.” 

Dean purses his lips. “Three weeks, Cas?” He takes out his finger and makes Cas suck it clean. “Tomorrow, I will remedy that. But today, I will have to punish you. Why, Castiel?”

“Because your slave should have reminded you, instead of taking advantage of Master’s kindness.”

“And now, I will have to punish you also because you knew what you were doing. No use lying to me, Cas. You didn’t even have to think about it when you answered me. You knew you were supposed to be spanked, and purposefully avoided it.”

“Yes, Master,” Cas sighs.

“Castiel,” Dean says gently, “even when you don’t like something, if you must do it, then you shouldn’t avoid it. I suppose I have been using you quite a lot recently,” he says. “Doc did say something about exercises. I’ll make an appointment after we finish.”

Cas shakes his head. “Not the Doctor,” he whispers.

“Silence. You want to imply that I do not have your best interests in mind when I arrange for you to go to the doctor? Or that you have more rights to your body, than me, your owner? You may answer.” 

Cas shakes his head again. “No, Master. But I don’t like going to the doctor’s.”

“That is just stupid. When you are not well, you have to go to the doctor’s.”

“Yes, Master.” Cas sounds miserable.

“For your assumptions, I will have to punish you. Four punishments in one morning. Wow, I have to punish you for going back on your training. I thought we were past that.”

Cas just whimpers. 

“Lean on your elbows and put your ass up in the air. Keep spreading those cheeks.” 

It’s a good thing he keeps all sorts of things in the nightstand. A quick search proves that, indeed, he still has all that he needs for the first of Cas’ punishments. “Since you refrained from reminding me that I had to spank you, I think it’s fitting that the next punishment will be about spanking. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Master.”

“So, I will spank your hole twenty-one times, one for each day that you didn’t remind me that I had to spank you, and then I will cane your ass until you bleed, because only something like that will remind you to do your duty towards me.”

“Yes, Master Dean,” Cas whispers. 

“Good. And I don’t want to see your hands leave your ass at any moment while I spank you, you hear me?” 

“Yes, Master Dean.”

“Good. Cas, why do you have to be so stubborn?” he sighs as he hits Cas lightly. “I know you want to be good,” he hits him again, “you promised me,” another hit, this time more forceful, and making Cas shiver. “And I know you’ll keep your promise,” he says and hits him again, “but you need reminding.” The next three strikes come swiftly one after the other and when he’s done, Cas whimpers.

“Hands on your ass, or I will add another ten strokes.”

“Yes, Master,” Cas half-sobs. 

“Good.” He slows down for the next four strikes, but even so, Cas can’t stop making broken little noises. “You’d think I did this,” he sighs, hitting Cas forcefully after that. 

“Master,” Cas yelps. 

“Are you crying?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Do you want a gag?”

“No, Master.”

Dean smiles. “That’s my good boy. Gagging you means hiding these pretty sounds of yours from me, and I don’t want you to hide anything. Ever. Especially when it hurts.” And he does make sure to put extra strength at the next three hits, making Cas cry. Cas’ hole is a lovely red, and his sobs are as sweet as any music. “Yes, these sounds are what I want from you.”

As Castiel continues to cry, Dean continues to spank him. Perhaps as the next punishment he should simply fuck him; his hole looks raw now, and by the time he’s done with the cane, his ass will also be an inviting criss-cross of welts and cuts. A fuck will not be simple or pleasurable at that stage. But leaving Cas wait all day to find out his punishment might be better. Oh well, he has another five hits to administer and then it will be the cane. First this, and then he’ll decide what to do. 

&*&* 

For the first time in a while, Castiel wants Master to come back late. Late and drunk and tired, so that he’ll go straight to bed and leave Castiel to his misery. He hurts everywhere. Of course, he’s not lucky at all. 

“Come here,” Master Dean tells him, allowing him to sit on his lap. He winces. 

“What was that, Cas?”

Castiel shakes his head and tries to make himself as comfortable as he can. 

“That’s what I thought. So, what did you today?”

“School. Then gym.”

“Cas,” Master sighs, disappointed in him. “Speak in full sentences.”

“I went to school. Then I went to the gym.”

“Better. And did anything interesting happen? Or out of the ordinary?”

“No.”

Master Dean stares at him. “Are you sure?”

Castiel lowers his eyes. Master Dean knows and he will punished for withholding information from Him. Again. Well, since he will be punished anyway... “We had a surprise test at German today. I got a B.”

Master frowns. 

“I couldn’t concentrate,” Castiel tells Him quickly. He couldn’t sit still because his ass felt like it was on fire, and the cuts from the cane itched. The bruises from last night were nothing compared to the constant pain from his most private part. 

“What have I told you? I don’t want your excuses. Excuses mean punishment.”

Castiel nods. But why is Master so keen on punishing him for things that He’d let slide in the past? This was not the first time he forgot to tell Master that he ought to be spanked. Nor was it the first time Castiel used what Master calls ‘excuses’. Clearly something happened last night, and Master needs to assert His dominance over Castiel. So, a nod is probably not enough. “Yes, Master,” he says, keeping his eyes lowered to the floor. 

“You must push yourself harder, Cas.” Master grabs his hair and lifts his head up. “I want nothing but As from you.”

“Yes, Master.” Master is teaching him a lesson about pushing himself and overcoming pain. Master is being kind in his cruelty. Master means well. But still Castiel wishes Master was out, drinking with friends, and Castiel could lie on his mat and rock himself to sleep. 

“What do you say, Castiel, when you know you’ve done something wrong?”

“Please, Master, punish me.”

“In German, Cas. Show me what you’ve been learning.”

“Meister, bestrafe mich, bitte.”

“Why?”

“Weil ich koennte besser machen. Ich duerfte besser sein. Ich habe Mein Meister geschaendet.”

“Good. You know why you deserve to be punished, and I will see that you are.” Master Dean pushes him down. He’s still gentle, which makes things worse. There’s something else that Master wants to punish him for, but Castiel doesn’t know what it is. 

When Master comes back, He is holding a tray covered with a black cloth in His hands. “Stand up, Cas,” he tells him, and when he does, Master covers his eyes with the cloth. 

Castiel shivers. He hates not knowing what will happen next. Even though seeing what Master or Sirs have planned for him can be frightening, not knowing is worse. But in the mood Master is in? Castiel doesn’t dare protest. 

When Master is happy that the blindfold is firmly in place, He removes the cage and the plug from behind him. His hands knead Castiel’s ass, and his fingers trace each mark, including the ones from last night. Perhaps that’s what’s wrong with Master.

It is not the first time someone had asked Master if He would sell Castiel to them. But it was the first time Master didn’t ask them about the price they could offer, and what they planned on doing with Castiel once they had him. It was the first time Master dismissed the offer altogether and... 

What if Master feels the same way for Castiel that he feels for Master? What if Master sees him as more than a clever doll that he’s training and shaping to become a free person someday? What if Master has changed His mind about seeing Castiel with others and has decided that He does not want to share him anymore? What if Master loves him?

He dares not hope, but hope still lodges itself somewhere in his body. His belly, perhaps, where it’s writhing together with all his fear and anxiety. Or maybe his throat, where it blocks the sounds he wants to make, and the cries he wants to let out, and all his pleas. Perhaps it’s at his hands, that can’t stop shaking. 

He’s scared when Master guides him across the room, but it’s mostly because he hates not seeing. He’s not afraid of what Master will do yet. No, that fear starts when Master pushes him down on a hard cold surface. It must be the kitchen table, and that makes him even more scared. He doesn’t think he can take a beating with the wooden spoon. But Master takes his time, spreading Castiel’s arms open first and tying them to the table legs, and then lifting his legs up, exposing him completely. 

But that’s not all, and Master still takes his time. Master must want him to stay like that, like some weird sacrificial animal, open and waiting, and since Castiel’s hands are tied, Master wraps a seemingly endless coil of rope around his legs and thighs so that he can secure them as he wants them. Master must be a man of endless patience; so much work just so He can punish a slave for his failure to do well at an exam. Either that, or He is a man of great refinement. 

The more Master prolongs this, the more Castiel thinks it’s the latter. Lying there, unable to move, with his eyes closed, makes time move slowly. As he breathes, he moves minutely, and the rope scratches into his flesh. The darkness frightens him, and in that darkness all he hears is Master move around and tie him up. Whatever Master will do to him will be sudden and out of nowhere. Whatever Master does next will hurt, and that’s even more frightening that the dark. 

What’s next is cold, extreme cold centred on his nipple and spreading on his chest. He barely hears the click of the clamp as it closes, for a moment he doesn’t even feel pain, and when he does, his whimper covers the next click. His position suddenly makes sense; Master will use clothespins on him, on his penis and his testicles and...

Master caresses him instead, His hand gentle and possessive over Castiel’s genitals, almost soothing until he touches his hole. Then Castiel shudders and is grateful for the ropes, because he really wants to move away from His hand. 

“It hurts, right?”

He nods. 

“Any punishment that is worth teaching you something should hurt.” Master’s finger stabs into him, slippery and rough at the same time. Master adds another finger, and pushes both in an out. It’s like handling a piece of meat, and Castiel curses himself for ever hoping that Master could love him. Master will use him, prepare him for life without a collar and get rid of him. 

Why can’t he be happy with that? He was, a year ago. Why does he keep wanting more? Because Master calls him ‘sweetheart’ and ‘baby’ and lets him sleep in His bed? Because Master usually lets him get away with things that would have made another Master punish him? 

When Master pushes something long and thick inside him, it hurts. When it hits his prostate, it’s like he’s burning all over again. And when it starts vibrating subtly, it makes him want to scream. The pain only makes the pleasure more intense. He’s really a slut, ready to forget every pain for this pleasure, ready to do anything to have Master give him this. 

He is a fickle slut. A vessel that is blown away by winds and carried away by strong currents, and Master is his North Star, the only steady thing in a world dark and frightening. His cruelty makes sense; His love is wonderful. 

From now on, Castiel will not just be good to thank Master. He will be so good, that Master Dean will never forget him. When He frees Castiel and looks for another slave, He will never find anyone like him. As Master trains him, He will train Master. 

“Now, you stay right there,” Master laughs, “until I think you’ve learnt your lesson. What do you say, Cas?”

“Ja, Meister. Danke. Meister.”

Master Dean laughs, and ruffles his hair. 

Yes, by the time Master Dean gets rid of him, Castiel will have thoroughly spoiled him for anyone else. He might be free of Master Dean, but Master will never be free of him.  



	3. Chapter 3

Dean knows that at first this might not seem like much of a punishment to Castiel. After all, it may be adding to his discomfort, but it also causes him pleasure. But Castiel can surely appreciate it for what it is after he cums for the first time and Dean continues to stroke him until he’s milked him dry. Then he sits back and continues to watch Castiel being continuously aroused, and writhing helplessly in his bonds. 

The ideas behind owning sex slaves are noble. Orphaned and unwanted children are brought up into useful members of the society, and prevent citizens from following their baser urges. Why should anyone violate or rape another free person, when they can have someone who can’t say no at any whim at home waiting for them? And if you couldn’t afford your own personal sex slave, you could always go to one of the state brothels where, for a tiniest amount, you could serviced in any way you liked. 

Father had not wanted to share his slave with Dean, so he’d taken Dean to a brothel, and his first time had been with a public sex slave. He had been thirteen and she had been older than him, waiting for her clients in a small room, naked so all could see her. Dean had never seen a naked woman in the flesh before, and so he’d taken his time, studying her, touching her, learning what made her smile and what made her gasp. 

It also had been the first time that he’d realised how much more pleasurable it was for him to make someone submit to his touch, to bring them to their limits with his hands and his mouth, than to fuck them. It was the start of a journey into dominance that has now brought him here, sitting in a chair watching Cas moan, instead of making his dinner, damn it.

No wonder his uncle Bobby thinks that sex slavery is the new opium of the people. Why bother doing anything when you can have your own personal sex show in your kitchen or your living-room 24/7? When you can have someone exactly as you want them, doing exactly what you want them to do? And what Dean wants is to take Cas’ cock in his hand and make him cum.

So, he does, and Cas sobs his release, tears trickling slowly beneath the blindfold. He’s trying to move away from Dean’s touch but he can’t, just as Dean can’t stop touching that beautiful, firm flesh that seems made to fit into his palm. 

“Master, please, please, it hurts,” Cas whimpers, raising his head and looking straight at Dean, even though he’s not able to tell where Dean is. 

“It’s punishment,” he says firmly.

Cas lets his head drop back. “Ouch,” he says a moment after he hits the table. “Please, Master, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Nonsense.” Dean continues stroking Cas’ cock, rubbing the sensitive head and the even more sensitive underside. If Cas weren’t tied up, he’d be kicking or jumping away, and it’s just so exciting seeing him not just undone, but completely broken. 

“Please, please, Master, I’ll be good, it hurts, Master, please, stop.”

“If I stop, what will you do?”

“I’ll be good.”

“Define ‘good’,” he smiles as he switches the vibrator to maximum speed. 

Cas screams. He’s shaking like a man possessed, grasping the robes near his hands so tightly his knuckles turn white. If he weren’t tied up, he’d hurt himself. 

“Tell me, Cas, why is this punishment?”

“Because I was complacent. Oh, god, Master, please.” 

“What else?”

“I didn’t do well at school. I brought dishonour on My Master. Please.” He’s crying again. “I won’t do this again. Please, Master, let me go,” he sobs in a little boy voice. 

Dean imagines his beautiful eyes shining full of tears, sees his beautiful body shudder, and even though this is punishment, and so it’s right for Cas to suffer, he feels pity. Pity that he squashes immediately. Cas needs this, if he is to become strong, stronger than anyone else. Even though there is no difference between an ex-slave and a freeborn according to the law, people still think that slavery is a stigma, like having a catching disease. Cas will have to prove himself twice as hard as any freeborn if he is to survive when he is freed. 

There’s such a fine line between erotic pain and torture, one that a Master does not have to observe with his slaves. But he finds it so difficult now when he crosses it. When he makes Cas cum for the third time, it’s a mechanic act on his part. Cas’ struggles are not exciting any more, and when he cries... “Damnit, Cas. So, you’re a little sensitive. Deal with it.”

Cas stills for a moment, sniffles, and when he starts again, it’s worse. He’s still shivering, and when he cries, it’s quietly, softly, like a child. 

“You’re not a kid, Cas, so cut it out. I will not untie you until you stop, you hear me?” He turns off the vibrator, takes it out, and turns around to wash his hands. What a nuisance. He lets the hot water run, but the noise doesn’t cover Cas’ stifled sobs. That’s the downside of owning slaves. You have to train them, and train them, and even when you’re trying to do what’s best for them, they still don’t get it. 

He continues to make noise as he fixes dinner. Magda had left him a pot full of Bolognese sauce but he’d have to cook the pasta and he’s really not in the mood anymore. So, cold cuts it is, slices of ham and salami together with cheese, tomatoes and bread. That’s all he can manage. 

“I’ll untie you now,” he says when he sees that Cas has stopped sniffling. He starts from Cas’ legs, rubbing each leg as he releases it, and Cas stays more or less quiet, even though he grimaces. “That’s a good boy,” he praises him, and Cas huffs. “I want you to stay still,” he says, lowering Cas’ legs, and massaging them again. “Can you do that, or do you want me to leave your hands tied?”

Cas takes a deep breath, and his throat works for a few moments. “Still,” he whispers.

“That’s good,” he says. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

Cas shivers. “Because it hurts?” he dares.

Dean glares at him. He puts both of Cas’ arms at his sides and watches him. “Being in pain is good for you. It strengthens you,” he says as he washes his hands one more time.

When he turns back one more time, Cas is exactly as he left him, but his head is turned away from Dean. “I don’t feel strong,” he whispers when Dean sits down.

“I said I’d help you become stronger, didn’t I? Don’t you trust me?” Cas flinches and only then he realises he’s been raising his voice again. What the fuck is wrong with him? It’s bad enough that he sees Cas and he thinks of him not as a slave, but as someone he will free, but now he can’t even discipline him properly, either forgoing punishment altogether, or punishing him with anger. He just wants to make Cas strong enough to face life as a free man. 

“Open your mouth,” he sighs as he places his hand behind Cas’ head and raises it up. He traces Cas’ lips with a cherry tomato and when Cas bites it in two, the juice paints his mouth red and trickles down his chin. “You’re supposed to chew,” he says, when Cas coughs out the part he’d cut.

“Not hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

Cas closes his mouth and tightens his jaw stubbornly. 

“Damnit, Cas. You’re driving me mad,” he whispers as he moves away. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and I don’t understand you at all.”

“There’s nothing to understand. I am slave, and Master is Master. Order me and I will eat. Master owns my body, does He not? Slave has no rights on it.” Cas suddenly sits up, taking off his blindfold. “I don’t care,” he screams, and his eyes are burning. “Punish me.”

“Cas, stop this.”

“Or what? Master will punish me?” Cas lunges and Dean, shocked, lets Cas push him down. They crash on the floor, Cas on top of him, and even though he could take him on a fight easily, Cas is really the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and like that, furious to the point of breaking, he’s utterly gorgeous. “If Master is Master, and I am slave, then Master should act like that.”

“Cas,” he whispers.

“No. Not ‘Cas’. Don’t do this. Master doesn’t understand?” Cas is keeping Dean down, one hand across his chest and another near his throat, and his anger is glorious. “I don’t understand. Master keeps changing the Rules, and Master keeps changing His behavior.”

“Master has a right to....”

“No,” Cas pokes him painfully on the chest. “Either Master keeps me as slave, or Master treats me as person. Master can’t do both at the same time. I can’t... I...” 

Dean surges up, grabs Cas’ hands and pushes him back. Cas resists him but Dean is still bigger and stronger than him. When he has Cas on the floor, his legs trapped between Dean’s, his hands in Dean’s grip, he snorts. “Of course. When I’m not sure what I’m doing here, why should you be?”

Cas licks his lips. The more he stares at Dean, the more the fight leaves him, but does not leave him relaxed. “Well?” he asks quietly, anxiously. 

“You’re not a slave to me anymore.”Dean whispers, wondering when dominating someone with kisses stopped being enough. When did he start needing pain and tears? When did his tortures stopped being erotic and started being abusive? “But, I like punishing you.”

Cas blinks.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have seen. Do you know what that means? Didn’t you ever see anything so beautiful that you just had to have it, you had to touch it to make sure it was real?”

“Master is that beautiful to me,” Cas sighs.

“Master is not a thing.”

“Unlike me.”

“No... It’s not like that.” Only it is, and he’s struggling with Cas not being a thing anymore, isn’t he? 

“I understand why Master punishes me,” Cas tells him softly, while he’s still trying to figure everything out. “But not why Master punishes me for failing to bring an A this week, when two weeks ago, I brought a B at my surprise test at Physics. Nor why He punishes me with a caning on a school night this week, when He knows I won’t be able to sit for two days afterwards, when a month ago His punishment on a school night was to clean all the toys in the basement.”

“You’re accusing me of inconsistency?”

Cas looks away. 

Of course he is. And he’s right; Dean can’t be so arbitrary, but isn’t it within his rights as Master to do as he pleases? Only, he’s not just Cas’ Master, is he? He’s also his guardian, is he not? And isn’t he Cas’ lover too, even though that’s a line he shouldn’t be crossing? 

“What else don’t you understand?”

“If Master cares,” he whispers brokenly. “I...” Cas stares at him again, holding Dean captive. “Master knows how I feel. If I knew how Master felt, though....” He’s suddenly blushing all over. 

“What? What would happen if...”

Cas shakes his head a little. “Things would make more sense,” he only says. 

Dean nods. “I agree. But I don’t know yet.” 

“Hm.” Cas looks at him, and narrows his eyes for a second, considering something. But the next moment he almost composes himself, looking just a little embarrassed. 

Dean pulls him up. “You really are my most precious,” he says as he helps Cas on his lap, feeling bad when Cas winces. “My Cas.” He feeds him pieces of cheese and more tomatoes, and helps him drink water, even though he knows Cas is not a baby, but a person. And as a person he must treat him from now on. “Tell me, in my place, would you punish such a behavior like yours?”

Cas nods, still embarrassed. 

“And so will I. Your punishment will be to write a list of all the mistakes and infractions you have done so far, and all the ones you think you might do in the future, and to think of appropriate punishments for them. Next week, you’ll bring me your list and I will approve it or make changes where appropriate.”

“Yes, Master.”

Dean wonders why he feels disappointment when Cas doesn’t hug him the way he does when he’s either too tired or satisfied with something Dean did. Surely Cas is happy to have this, isn’t he? And when Cas reaches for a piece of bread, he feels gutted.


	4. Chapter 4

The weekend is strange. Master Dean went to a party at the Lodge, but left Castiel behind. When he came back, he went straight into His bed. On Sunday, He spent all day with Sir Sam, and on Monday He tells Castiel that he has to go on a business trip for a few days and that Sir Sam will be there to take care of him. Castiel nods quietly. 

It’s strange, but he doesn’t mind. He needs time to sort out his thoughts, since even having the weekend to himself didn’t help. After that pathetic emotional display, he’s not sure if he wants to try to make an impression anymore. He’s probably ruined all his chances of that, and Master will probably remember him as the slave that had a breakdown. Oh, well... 

He also needs time to make up his list. When Uriel asks what has him so anxious and unable to focus in his training and Castiel tells him, Uriel thinks him a fool for giving it so much thought. “Easy,” he says. “Give yourself as light a punishment as possible for each offense.”

“Master will know.”

“You give Masters too much credit. Most of them are complacent idiots who can’t think beyond the profit that a slave brings, or their dick.”

Castiel blushes and Uriel leaves it at that.

Sir Sam tells him the same thing, when he finds out what Castiel’s real homework is. “Dean won’t really scrutinize your list. He’ll have a quick look, say it’s okay, and that will be the end of it. Don’t punish yourself too hard.” 

“That wouldn’t be fair. It would be a betrayal of Master’s trust.”

Sir Sam looks at him with utter pity. “There’s no way I can change your mind, is it?”

“No, Sir.”

By Wednesday, he wonders if he’s being stupid. “What could be a just punishment for a bad blowjob?” he wonders as he showers after practice.

Uriel makes a muffled gasp. When Castiel looks at him, Uriel looks both shocked and fascinated. “I wouldn’t know,” he mumbles. “Can there be a bad blowjob?” he then asks.

Castiel looks around. If anyone else had asked, he wouldn’t have answered, and if there was anyone else around, he couldn’t, but it’s just him and Uriel, and Uriel is his best friend. “Of course,” he nods. “When you only lick instead of sucking, or when you don’t take it deeply enough, or...” He stops, when he realises that Uriel is turning red.. “Surely you know...”

Uriel shakes his head. 

“But... That,” he says, pointing at Uriel’s free, and half-hard penis. He thought that lack of a cock-cage meant that Uriel was allowed to penetrate, unless, it’s different for work slaves. 

“My Master doesn’t care about such things.” Uriel snorts. “I’m not a sex slave,” he says, sounding proud. 

“So, you must have done it.” It comes out more as a question.

Uriel is beet red. He looks younger than he is. “I’ve never had the chance,” he says quietly.

“Oh.” Castiel turns the water off. “Would you like to?”

Uriel takes a step back. There’s not much further he can go, though, and he ends up with his back against the wall, water still beating down on him. 

When Castiel steps under the spray, he sighs. The water is warm, wonderfully so. It’s such a pleasant sensation. “Well?”

Uriel stares at him. “But...”

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I wouldn’t give you a bad blowjob.”

Uriel grimaces. 

“Is this because I’ve had so much practice? Would you rather have a virgin?” Castiel snorts. “Virgins don’t know anything.” He has to put his hands on Uriel’s chest to steady himself and step on his tiptoes so he can look at him face to face. “Master makes me suck strangers all the time, but you’re my friend. I want to do this for you.”

Uriel opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He swallows hard, and even though he’s tense, he doesn’t push Castiel away. When Castiel closes all distance between them, and presses his body against Uriel’s, he feels his hardness poking him. 

“It’s really nothing, Uriel. Just a blowjob.”

“Won’t your Master punish you for betraying him?”

“That’s not in my list, and... it’s not betraying Him when He is the one who says I must practice my skills with others.” Castiel kisses Uriel on the edge of his mouth. “You’ve always been kind to me. You’ve been a good friend and I haven’t been able to give anything back so far. But this, this I can do.” He presses another kiss directly on his lips, and Uriel sighs, and opens his mouth for him. Castiel is careful and gentle, using his tongue to lick Uriel’s, and coax it into moving. “Let me do this for you,” he whispers. 

“You don’t have to,” Uriel says hoarsely, even as his erection is leaking precum on Castiel’s belly. 

“But I want to. Please?” 

“Damnit,” Uriel gasps.

Castiel smiles. He reaches down and gives Uriel’s dick a couple of strokes, feeling the weight and texture of his flesh. “I think you’re ready,” he says, sliding down on his knees and taking Uriel’s inside his mouth. It’s smaller than Master’s, but only slightly. Uriel is seventeen still, and hasn’t finished growing. Castiel dares not think how much bigger it will be when Uriel is an adult. Probably bigger than he can take, but for now, it’s fine.

It’s strange how he hates doing this with strangers. Only the knowledge that it is what Master wants makes him tolerate it. With Uriel, though, it’s so different. He knows Uriel, likes him, and knowing that he can do something to make him happy, makes him glad. And knowing that it’s Uriel holding his head down, Uriel who’s never hurt him except in practice, and who makes him laugh, makes such a difference in how he feels. He doesn’t feel trapped or scared or miserable. He feels safe, and knows that he can be as slow or quick as he wants, and Uriel won’t mind. It’s liberating. 

So, he puts all his skills and experience into this, making a tight seal around Uriel’s shaft with his lips and using his tongue to play along the sensitive underside. He teases Uriel’s balls with his hands, rolling them in his palm and pressing his fingertips at the base of Uriel’s dick, where he knows he can reach his prostate. 

Uriel growls something above him, but the water muffles his words. It doesn’t matter. His dick is heavy, his balls are rising high inside their protective sack, and Castiel feels Uriel’s heartbeat get quicker with every pass of his tongue. When he cums, he explodes in Castiel’s mouth, his sperm bitter and copious and hot. Castiel moans appreciatively, the way Master taught him, and doesn’t let go until he’s drunk it all.

“Good?” he smiles when he is done.

Uriel stares at him dazed. Then he pulls him up and hugs him. “Thank you,” he says, sounding moved and oddly formal. He kisses Castiel, but only for a moment, grimacing when he realises that Castiel tastes of cum. “Sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed and vulnerable. “Erm... you won’t be doing this again, will you?”

Castiel doesn’t even have to think about it. “No. Because now you know what a blowjob feels like, right?” Once is what he usually does; but twice is starting a relationship and that would be betraying His Master.

“Yes.” Uriel studies him, and turns the water off. “I would return the favor, but...”

“It’s okay. I’m used to this.” The cock-cage and the attached plug are such a small price for being allowed to school and the gym. 

Uriel glares at the ceiling lights, and punches the wall with his fist. “There’s nothing ‘okay’ with this. Fucking Masters. One day... One day, I’ll show them.... Promise me you’ll join me, Castiel. When that day comes.”

Castiel nods. “If I’m strong enough.”

“Oh, you will be. I’ll make sure of that.” Uriel hugs him one more time, but this is different. This is Uriel thanking him and having his back, a comrade’s hug, not a lover’s. A brother’s embrace, not a friend’s. Castiel hugs him back and with his touch promises he’ll do everything he can to become strong enough to join Uriel’s fight one day. He won’t let his brother down.   
The problem is, though, that when he goes back home where Sir Sam is studying, he finds it so appealing to promise Sir Sam that he will join him in his fight someday. Sir Sam is strange. He treats him like a simple child one moment, and like an adult the other. He likes to ask strange questions, but even more, he likes to lecture. 

Castiel generally finds lectures boring; he prefers hearing and reading as many opinions as possible, and then he likes to sit quietly and think things through. He likes books, not speeches. And, when people lecture on moral issues, it is because they want to manipulate others. God only knows how many lectures he’d heard on how good it is to serve and how slavery is right when he was at School. Now he knows that lectures are for spreading lies. 

But when Sir Sam speaks, he is so passionate about what he says, and so honest, that Castiel finds himself listening without feeling bored or annoyed. He even finds himself curious to make Sir Sam speak longer. “Do you know what nonviolent resistance means, Castiel?” 

“No, Sir.”

“It’s when you refuse to obey laws or you protest against something, but without using violence. For example, when Dean comes back, you tell him that you refuse to play into his stupid mind-game, and that you will not tell him how he should be punishing you. When he gives you an order, you will refuse to carry it out.”

“And when He beats me, I will be grateful,” Castiel smirks. 

“No. If he beats you,” Sir Sam says with a sour expression, “then you accept it.”

“How is that different from every other time He punishes me?”

Sir Sam looks quite ill, but he still wants to talk about his ideas. It’s what makes him so interesting to Castiel. “It’s different because when you refuse to... do your job,” Sam says with a shudder and a blush, “and he knows why, then, eventually, he will have to reconsider his behavior. Eventually, he will understand why it’s wrong to have slaves.”

“But until then, He will be punishing me for my refusal to obey and...” Castiel knows that Sir Sam thinks of him as a child, and so he acts like one, bringing his knees up and hugging them. “I don’t want Him to punish me,” he mutters. Punishment hurts and now that he’s been both in and out of pain, he definitely prefers a pain-free existence. 

“Yes, but one day you will be free, and then he won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”

“One day I will be free anyway. He promised. Or, I think He did. So, why not just wait until then?”

Sir Sam sighs, shaking his head. “You can’t just think of yourself.”

Castiel stares on the floor stubbornly. He’s not; he’s thinking of Uriel, who doesn’t know how, but will fight against Masters some day. He’s thinking of James, who believed in God and His kindness and got nothing in return. He wants to live for them too, not just himself. He’s thinking of Master too, and his stupid feelings for Him. 

Sir Sam sighs again. “Castiel,” he says carefully, as if he’s scared Castiel will bolt and go hide in the kitchen or the basement. When Castiel looks up, he gives him a friendly smile. “As you can see, I have to go through all these books for my essay.”

He nods, impressed. Sir Sam is surrounded by books, some open and some closed, stacked one on top of the other. It doesn’t matter that he’s been seeing the same books for three days now. It’s still remarkable that Sir Sam has to read all of them – or parts of them, anyway – just for a 10-page essay. 

“But, with my deadline coming up, I don’t know if I’ll manage to read them all. So, will you do me a favor?” 

“Yes, Sir?”

Sir Sam pushes a stack of closed books toward him. “I told you that I’m writing an essay on the influence of natural rights on the creation of the constitution, right?”

He nods. It’s partly why Sir Sam is so keen on lecturing him on slavery. According to his books, freedom is a natural right, that is, a universal and absolute right of human beings regardless of where they are born or live. But, as Sir Sam has already told him, most people agree that slavery is a natural condition, and what Sir Sam writes is what a minority thinks. That’s why Sir Sam is working so hard on his essay. 

“These are all on the history of natural rights. I need to write a summary of how and when the idea of natural rights developed.”

Castiel stares at them. 

“I... don’t think I have enough time to do that, and write a good analysis of how natural rights law was taken into consideration when our constitution was created, and how it was later dismissed at the third revision, at the same time. So...” Sir Sam looks at him earnestly. “Could you go through them and write me a summary of what the books have to say?”

“Me?”

“It’s just reading and summarizing. It’s not that hard.” Sir Sam leans over, checks the books and selects one. “Here, start with this one. See, natural rights, antiquity. That’s the first chapter. And, natural rights, age of enlightenment, Europe. You don’t need to read the others.”

“I haven’t even finished high school, and you’re a student,” Castiel protests as he takes the book. “How do you expect me to understand your text book?”

Sir Sam laughs. “Believe me, most text books these days are written for high-schoolers. You should hear what my tutor has to say on the subject.” His expression softens. “Look, if you can’t understand it, that’s fine too. But why don’t you give it a try first? Unless you want to do something else?”

Sir Sam has been so generous with him. The moment he arrived, he’d given him permission to use the furniture and to speak freely whenever he wants. He allowed him to watch TV, and even though most of the programmes are boring, Castiel discovered that he enjoys watching documentaries, especially about nature. He even gave him free time in the evenings, after he’d finished with his homework. The least he can do is try helping Sir Sam with his homework. “No, Sir.... But there is a programme about the coral reefs of the Red Sea in half an hour. Could I turn the TV on then?”

Sir Sam nods. When he goes back to his book, he is smiling. Castiel smiles too. If only he could please Master so easily.


	5. Chapter 5

The scene that Dean finds when he opens the door upon his return is so ordinary, so domestic, it makes his chest ache. Sammy is there, half-hidden behind his computer and encircled by books. His hair is even more floppy than usual, and he’s chewing on a pen thoughtfully. He looks the perfect image of the serious student, and for a moment, all Dean can see is his little brother on the night before a test, not paying attention to anything around him but his homework. 

Then, there’s Cas, sitting across Sam. He’s wearing one of Dean’s old T-shirts, and he’s so thoroughly focused on the book in front of him that he doesn’t even look up when Dean closes the door. That’s the real shock; while he was away, all he could think of was his sexy little slave, his precious kitten that thought he was a tiger. But now he sees Cas, and he’s just a kid, an ordinary-looking teenager doing his homework. 

“Did you miss me?”

“Dean,” Sam grins widely. “I didn’t expect you until later.”

Before Dean can answer, Cas has slid on the floor, making his chair fall down with a thud. Even though the noise makes Dean start, Cas doesn’t move from his greeting position. Sam glares at Dean, and makes a gesture that could be anything from ‘don’t be stupid’, ‘tell Cas to get up’ to ‘you’re an asshole.’ 

Dean shrugs. “Did you leave me any dinner?”

“Dean,” Sam growls under his breath.

“Cas, get up.”

Cas looks at him with a resigned expression as he lifts himself up into a kneeling position. That’s not a sex kitten; that’s a wet, half-drowning and completely miserable kitten he has there. And perhaps something is even more wrong with him than he thought, because that near-fearful expression turns him on. 

“Sam, you know I love you and all that, but if you stay on, you stay at your own peril. Cas, follow me.”

Dean goes into the kitchen and wipes clean the Rules section of the blackboard. “New Rules.” He glances back, and both Cas and Sam are staring at him, one with curiosity, one with disappointment. “One. You are always available for sex. Two, during sex, you are slave and you will behave accordingly. Three, in public you are slave, unless I say differently. But,” and there he smiles a little, “the rest of the time you are Cas, a person, and we will both behave accordingly.”

“I don’t understand,” Sam says.

Dean looks at Cas. “Do you?” he asks softly.

“Yes, Master.” Cas still looks resigned.

“You can speak freely.”

“How does a person act? Can I speak without permission? Can I sit on the sofa? Can I say ‘no’ to a visit to the doctor?”

“Yes to the first two, no to the last one. You are going to the doctor, that’s my final decision.”

“Can I wear clothes?”

Dean snorts. “I don’t want to waste time taking them off. No.”

Sam grimaces, disgusted. “That’s not exactly appropriate behavior for a person.”

“Yes, but Cas is still my slave.” He smirks. “I like my slaves naked and ready.”

“Eww, Dean.”

“Will Master need me for sex now?” Cas asks quietly. 

“No.”

“Then, may I be excused?”

“Yes, but bring me your list first. I want to see what you came up with.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Sam mutter the moment Cas turns his back on them. 

“What? Why? I bought him, didn’t I? You wouldn’t buy a car and keep it in the garage, would you? Not unless you had a collection, and I don’t.”

“It’s a human being, not a car.”

“Sam, everything is a form of slavery. When I was working at that diner to make extra money because dad never had enough, I had to wear a uniform and follow rules, and listen to whatever bullshit my boss said and made me do.” He shakes his head. He’d hated that bastard. “I might as well have been a slave. Cas? He’s getting food and board, and a better education that he would have gotten on his own, and for what? For sex?” He snorts. “I’d love it if sex was my work.”

“Not everyone is such a horndog, Dean.”

“It’s how things are, Sam. One day, you’ll get a job and work your ass off for your boss, until you can start your own business. Until then, you’ll be his slave, and then you’ll be a slave to your own drives and ambitions. How is that different from giving your body to men who can appreciate it?” Dean wants to continue, but Cas is there, staring at him with that strange, thoughtful expression, tilting his head just a little, and he can’t. “Bring me the list, Cas.”

Cas does, and then vanishes. A moment later, he hears the TV start. 

“You’ve spoiled him completely.”

Sam shakes his head. “There’s a documentary on penguins on now. He’s been looking forward to it all week.”

“Penguins?” Dean grins. “Maybe we should all go watch it.”

“Dean, leave him alone.”

Dean ignores him. Seeing Cas on the couch instead of sitting down beside it is a bit weird, but not offensive. It makes more sense, after all. Cas glances at him when he sits down, but his attention returns instantly on the screen. The narrator talks about the smallest penguins on the world, little blue birds that look particularly comical as they wobble from their burrows towards the sea. By the time the penguin jumps into the water Cas is so completely transfixed he doesn’t even look away when Sam joins them, sitting between them.

As the narrator continues talking about the different types of penguin and their food habits, Dean goes through the list of transgressions and punishments. Cas clearly has given it much thought: any sexual disobedience is to be punished with another sex act, while other offences are to be punished either with beatings or loss of privileges. Some are old: speaking out of turn is still punished with clothespins on the tongue. Some are new: bringing a ‘B’ after an exam is punishable with twenty strokes by a cane. A ‘C’ with thirty. Some are up to Dean, like the punishment for trying to avoid punishment: two punishments of Dean’s choosing. 

“So, for thinking that you knew better than your Master, the proposes punishment is sleeping in the cage?”

Sam groans, and looks apologetically at Cas.

Cas also stops watching and nods, looking blank. “Yes, Master.”

“Good. That’s where you’ll sleep tonight.”

“Yes, Master.” When he goes back to watching the penguins, he’s worrying his bottom lip.

“Way to ruin everyone’s evening, Dean,” Sam mutters.

Dean shrugs. Cas is three punishments due – in fact, four, thanks to his list, and Dean would rather deal with them as soon as possible. 

&*&*  
Balthazar doesn’t know if it’s because Dean learned most of his tricks under Alastair’s tutelage, or because his last two slaves were extreme masochists, but as far as he’s concerned Dean is wrong about the way he’s handling his pet. If Bunny were his, he’d keep him tied to his bed and in a state of constant arousal. Then he would hug him, and squeeze him, and make him come over and over again. In his opinion, Bunny has a reserved, but sensual nature, and it’s wrong to treat a pet like that the way you’d treat a pain slut. No, you encourage such a pet’s natural proclivities and turn him into a perfect cock-slut. 

So, he’s naturally surprised when Dean calls him to make arrangements for the night. “Fuck,” he says, “for this, I’d build a new theatre, if you’d told me sooner.”

“No theatre, please.”

Damn. He’s having a hard-on just thinking about it. “Next week, can I punish him?”

“No,” Dean growls. “Just make sure everything is ready when we come tonight.”

“Pushy, aren’t we?” He laughs. “I will but you have to promise me one thing. That he’ll wear the bunny ears and tail.”

Dean groans and hangs up. 

Balthazar smirks. That boy is such an idiot. Has no style or theatrical sense whatsoever. But he has. And if he had been given some advance warning, he really would have organised something spectacular. As it is, he’ll have to use one of the usual rooms, perhaps the Black or the Red. Thankfully the Lodge was built last century by an eccentric millionaire and it’s a sprawling mansion and not a real hunters’ lodge. There’s enough space to accommodate even such last-minute demands, and for Bunny? Balthazar would always find a room.

When Dean arrives, Balthazar takes him by the arm, while one of his assistants has the task of guiding Bunny to the Black Room. Lucky bastard. Bunny is composed, but obviously frightened, and his assistant has to hold him tightly. 

“From here, you can watch everything,” he tells Dean. “There are several cameras down there, and each monitor gives you a different angle. If you prefer a particular one, you can switch between feeds from here, and, if you want, we can edit the footage later and make you a DVD.”

Dean glares. “I’ll pass.”

“Dean, if you’re thinking that I would make one for profit, then... Yes, I would do that, but not without your permission.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyway, as I was saying earlier, John will be keeping an eye on everything. Nothing untoward will happen.”

“Good.”

Balthazar nods. “I wonder if I should join the fun. After all, how many times will I have this opportunity?”

“I thought you didn’t play with anyone’s pets but your own.”

“I usually don’t, but every rule has its exceptions. Anyway...” Balthazar stops when the door in the room opens, and John guides Bunny inside and makes him kneel in the centre of the room. Bunny is completely naked except for his leather collar and cock-cage, and looks so pale and graceful against the stark black of the walls that he’s really tempted to go down and start the evening’s proceedings himself.

Dean swallows hard. “Fuck. If I weren’t punishing him, I’d go down and...”

“Why don’t you?”

“It wouldn’t be punishment then. He likes it when I’m watching.” 

“Ah.”

They watch as nothing happens, and Bunny tenses with anticipation. The game is simple; Bunny must wait until people come to him. Finally, the door opens with a soft click. 

Bunny turns his head towards it. “Please, Sir, I need cum. Please, use me and cum on me.”

Balthazar is glad he invested on these new cameras, because on screen 3 he can see exactly how Castiel blushes all over as he begs.

Samuel smirks. “Don’t mind if I do,” he says and it only takes him three strides to reach Bunny. He nods at John, takes out his dick and thrusts it inside Bunny’s mouth. Samuel has no finesse; he’s all about holding Bunny’s head and face-fucking him brutally. Bunny sputters and drools, but he doesn’t raise his hands to push Samuel off; he puts them behind his back and holds his left wrist with his right hand tightly.

“You’ve trained him well.”

Dean nods. “He looks so good with a dick in his mouth.”

Balthazar doesn’t disagree. 

Samuel finally takes his dick out and cums all over Bunny’s face. 

“Maybe you should tell John to take the blindfold off,” Dean suggests. “I want to see cum on his eyelashes.”

“Let’s wait a while.” Cum on his cheeks looks just as good. 

The difficult thing is to wait until the first member or guest opens the door. Once that happens, word of mouth spreads the news that in the Black Room is a cute cum-slut that needs it badly. As per Dean’s instructions no one is allowed to cum inside Bunny, and John is there to make sure everyone cums on Bunny, exactly as Bunny asks them to. Still, they can use him as much as they want, and so five minutes after Samuel is gone, three guys are there, two busy fucking Bunny in each hole, and one jerking off watching them.

Dean is clearly a man of simple tastes, for he prefers to watch the camera that shows Bunny’s ass swallowing a thick, condomed dick. Not that it’s a bad view; the little hole is stretched obscenely wide and when the guy takes out his cock for a moment, it stays open and twitches helplessly. Who would resist such an invitation?

But Balthazar prefers the side view. There’s something so aesthetically pleasing, and thus erotically charged, in the sight of a lean, young man on all fours, head and ass raised high as he’s taken from both ends. He looks even more naked next to the two dressed men who fuck him, more vulnerable, more real, and when he moves, trapped between them? He looks gorgeous. 

The third guy must agree with him and doesn’t even manage to hold on enough to cum after he’s had his turn. He cums all over Bunny’s face and hair, and whines that the others are taking too long.

“Take off the blindfold now,” Balthazar instructs John ten minutes later. 

Dean smirks. The first thing Bunny sees is a guy cuming on his face and he barely has time to close his eyes. The next thing he does is the queue of men waiting to use him. “He’s very popular,” Dean preens. 

“Please, Sir, use me and cum on me,” Bunny begs them even though his eyes are wide with shock. 

“I did tell him that men would line up to fuck him, but he didn’t believe me,” Dean continues. 

“You don’t say. He doesn’t have any issues, does he? Like he thinks he’s ugly or something?” If there’s something Balthazar hates as much as mistreating a pet, is allowing a pet to have low self-esteem. 

“Not as far as I know. He probably doesn’t think about it much.”

“Hm. So, for how long will you let this go on?”

“Another hour?”

“Sounds good to me.” Anything else would be abusing Bunny, and Balthazar is glad Dean agrees with him. “I’ll be back later. Want anything?”

“Just a drink.”

Balthazar winks. He wouldn’t mind watching Bunny a while longer but the truth is, he’s just a man. A man who has to fuck. Now. Or else.

&*&*

Castiel loses track of the men after man number ten. The ones actually using him are not that many, but the men jerking off around him? These he can’t count after that. The room feels so warm with the lights above and all of them inside. He feels like he’ll pass out from lack of breath before he passes out from exhaustion or disgust. 

At first he curses himself for not following either Uriel’s or Sir Sam’s advice about not being honest in his list of punishments. He hates being moved about like a rag doll, and he hates the feel of cum on his skin, and the men fucking him. But since they don’t hurt him, and call him ‘pretty’ and ‘beautiful’ and ‘hot’, and when some of them touch him they are not just gentle, but reverent, he decides to believe them. 

He closes his eyes, raises his head when they are ready to cum, and thanks them. He’s a pretty doll, and he has no thoughts. This is all nothing. Slavery is another type of job, like Master Dean said. He gives them his body since he has nothing else, and they give him cum because he needs it. That’s all there is to it. A simple exchange.

“Enough,” his handler says at some point and Castiel struggles to open his eyes; his eyelids are stuck together. “We’re going to find your Master now, and he’ll decide whether you can take a shower or not now. Alright?”

He nods. “Master says to use the cock-leash,” he remembers at the last minute. “Because everyone needs to see what a filthy cum-slut I am.” 

“Yeah, you’re filthy alright,” the handler laughs.

Castiel chuckles. He likes the people working for Balthazar. They’re never rude, and they never yell at him. When they touch him, they are always gentle. Just like Balthazar; Balthazar always holds him like he’s made of glass. Even though he’s stronger now than the first time he came to the Lodge, he likes being handled with care. It means he can relax, and not be strong for a moment or two. 

“Let’s go, Bunny,” the man tells him as he leads him out slowly.

“My name is Castiel,” he informs him. 

“I’m John.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

John laughs again. 

“What a dirty cum-whore,” someone says, reaching down to trace a line across Castiel’s back. 

“Pity his hole is still clean.”

Castiel keeps his head down and doesn’t say a thing. There’s nothing clean about him; he’s filthy and sticky and Master knows how much he’s scared of ending up a common whore, that’s why he punishes him so. 

Master dean doesn’t look at him when John brings him to Him. “Your punishment is not over, Castiel,” He tells him sternly. “Kneel,” he says. 

It’s half-dark in the Lodge so all he sees is that floor is darker there. When he kneels, he realises it’s gravel. It doesn’t bother him at first, but soon he finds himself counting. It hurts, the edges of the stones cutting into his skin. He dares not whimper. It’s punishment; he should bear it gracefully and become better. 

“What a cum-dump,” someone giggles and a moment later he realises it’s Lady Meg. 

“I know,” Master says proudly. 

Castiel holds still, and wonders if he can count how many stones are beneath his knees. Anything to keep him from looking up towards Master and Lady Meg. 

“He took twenty-three loads tonight.”

“Impressive. Still, I think my cum-whore is a bigger cum-slut than yours.”

“Really?”

“Really. Tell your cum-slut to come here.” She giggles again. “Not that he can come, not with that cage on.”

“Castiel, come here.” Master tugs at his leash. 

Moving hurts, but if he does, he will be free of the gravel. So, he goes and presents himself to His Master. 

Lady Meg puts her foot on his back. She’s wearing stiletto-heels and when she grinds down, it hurts. “I like putting a man in his place,” she purrs. “But maybe later?”

“Hm,” Master says. 

“Okay.” She moves away, and sits next to Master. “This is Brady.” 

Castiel glances up furtively. Brady is blond, muscular and older than Castiel. He’s a man who could have been an athlete, a footballer or even a rugby player in another life. Now he’s Meg’s slave and he’s licking her shoe. 

“Brady, because you’re such a good slut, I want to give you a treat. Go and lick Castiel clean. He’s so full of cum that should satisfy even your insatiable thirst for it.”

“Thank you, Mistress. Thank you.”

Brady moves like a big cat, quietly and sinuously. When he kneels next to Castiel and licks a broad swath across his cheek, Castiel shivers. “Thank you, Mistress,” he says, and licks again. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“You don’t have to thank me all the time, Brady,” Lady Meg laughs. 

Being licked clean should be disgusting, but it actually feels good. There’s light pressure on his skin together with a bit of wetness, and when Brady moves away and the air dries his skin, it feels cool. He’s surprised that Brady doesn’t mind touching him, and when he looks at him, Brady looks hungry and happy at the same time. He looks full of lust. 

Castiel almost envies him. He can’t be happy like that, licking cum off someone else. He glances at Master, who’s talking softly with Lady Meg. If Master hadn’t assured him he was a person, he’d feel like such a bad slave right now, now that he can see how a good slave acts. So, he closes his eyes and lets Brady move him around like a rag-doll, and lick him like a lollipop and lets his mind go blank. He’s pretty and he has no thoughts. Not while he’s in public and he’s slave. That’s all.


	6. Chapter 6

Even if he weren’t in a good mood, seeing Dean would have been enough to make him feel better. Seeing Dean and his slave is making him feel great. 

“Another check-up?

“You could say that,” Dean smirks. “I think he’s becoming a bit too loose. You’d mentioned that you could do something about it?”

“Yes, yes. Let me see first.”

“Castiel, strip.”

Dean’s slave hasn’t grown much since last year. He still looks innocent enough with his clothes on, but when he’s naked, he can’t help smirking. There are handprints all over his body. “I see you’ve been putting him to good use.”

The slave blushes a little. 

“And what happened here?” he asks, pointing at the slave’s scraped knees. 

“I had him kneel on gravel yesterday. He’d been a very bad boy.”

“If he’d been such a bad boy, you could have put salt on the wounds. That would have taught him an unforgettable lesson.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Thanks, Doc.”

“Don’t mention it. Just doing my job.” He pushes the slave on the examination table. “Turn around,” he says when the slave sits there, looking embarrassed. “Should I restrain him?”

“No. Ass in the air, Castiel.” Dean gives the doctor a small key. 

And what a lovely ass it is. “You haven’t marked it recently,” he says as he puts his gloves on. 

“I was away on a business trip.”

“Hm. Okay, let’s see.” He unlocks the cage, removes it and the plug first, and then presses against the small opening. “Hm, he can take my finger without lube with just minimal pressure.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I mean. That’s why I brought him over.”

“When was the last time you fucked him?”

“Me? This morning.”

“And he’s been wearing his plug ever since?”

“Of course.”

He shakes his head. “Your slave’s fine. Just naturally loose after being fucked and plugged, but if you want, we can check it more thoroughly.”

“Please, do.” 

“Is he clean?”

“Yes. I followed your instructions to the letter: no food and two enemas two hours before coming here.”

“Good, good. Lie on your left side now.” He changes gloves and shows Dean what looks like a catheter with a balloon attached in one end. “This goes in here,” he explains to him. “Since he’s loose enough, we should not use lube.”

Dean frowns. “I don’t know about that.”

He smirks. Dean must be head over heels over his slave if he wants to make this as pleasant as possible for him. “Fine.” He squirts a few dollops on the instrument and spreads them around. “Spread your ass cheeks,” he orders the slave, and when he does, he pushes the tube inside, balloon-end first. 

“Now that this is inside, I’ll inflate the balloon and measure pressure and sensation. When I say ‘squeeze’ I want you to squeeze like you’re keeping shit from going out. When I say ‘push’ I want you to do the opposite. When I say ‘relax’,” he laughs, “you can relax.”

Dean laughs. 

“Great. Now, squeeze.”

Even though humiliating pretty slaves is perhaps his second favourite thing – first being beating their asses until they have all the colors of the rainbow – he’s first of all a doctor, and so does his job thoroughly. He makes the slave squeeze and push and relax, and monitors the data carefully. 

“Are you done yet?” Dean suddenly asks. 

“Dean, you asked for this examination, didn’t you? Just one more time, squeeze. And yes, now I’m done.” He takes out the catheter, and grins when the slave sighs deeply and curls a little on himself. “We could also do an EMG if you want.”

“A what?”

“EMG, electromyography. I’ll put an electrode here,” he presses inside the slave’s ass, “and take more data about his sphincter’s tone and contractions.”

“How long will it take?”

“Not too long. Another half hour, perhaps.”

“Fine. I’m getting a coffee while you’re at it.”

“Alright. You heard what the Master said,” he grins as Dean closes the door. “One more test.”

The slave whimpers. It’s such a lovely sound and he can’t wait till this part is over, so he can get to the real fun. “Keep those ass cheeks open for me.” Now that Dean is not there, he doesn’t have to explain what he does anymore. He pushes the electrode plug inside and only orders the slave what to do when he has to do it. 

“Well, Doc?” Dean asks, looking first at his slave and then at him when he comes back.

He must really be smitten. “He’s fine. Everything’s normal and in perfectly good working order. Although, there are a few things he can do if you’re not happy with the state of his ass. First of all, exercises.” He pushes the leaflets towards Dean with one hand and presses inside the slave with the other. “The idea is of strengthening the muscles here with a simple ‘squeeze-hold-release’ set. He should do them daily, in sets of ten, and you should see, or should I say feel, the results in a few weeks. You may also want to stop plugging him for a bit. I understand the necessity of keeping such a needy slut chaste, but a plug does keep his ass open.”

“Okay.”

“There’s also electro-therapy. A small electrode plug is inserted into the anus, and then you put another electrode somewhere near. As the electricity circulates between the two points, the muscles contract and when the electricity stops, they relax. A variation of the exercises, if you will.”

Dean nods. “I’ll think about it. Anything else?”

“Finally, there’s surgery. A little nip and tuck,” he grins. 

“Isn’t that a bit radical?”

“Yes, of course. As I said, his ass muscles are working fine, but if you want to have him virgin-tight again, it’s the best way to do it.”

“Okay,” Dean nods again. “You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about,” he laughs, although it seems slightly forced. “I’ll be back in an hour, as we said.”

“Yes, thank you.”

When the door closes again, he takes his finger out, and smacks the slave on the ass. “Move. Lean across the table and spread your legs wide, boy. You have a great ass, but it can be improved. I can see why your Master wouldn’t mind, you have so few hairs after all, but I like my boys smooth as silk all over, and for the next hour, you’re mine.” 

Castiel whimpers again. 

“Shush, this is just warm water, and a bit of shaving cream. Now, hold still, you don’t want to make my hand slip. Or, I could tie you.”

“I’ll hold still, Sir.”

He smirks. “There’s a good boy.” He spreads the cream over the slave’s ass and inside his crack. “When I finish with your cheeks, I want you to hold yourself open, so I can do your hole.”

“Yes, Sir.” The slave’s voice is softer than usual, and he sounds broken. This is so much fun. He takes his time shaving him, and grins when the boy’s hands shake when he has to hold himself open for the razor. He’s such a cute thing. “There,” he says, wiping him clean with a warm, wet towel. “All nice and smooth.” He grabs both ass cheeks in his hands and squeezes until he can see his hand prints on the fair skin. 

“On your back.” 

While the slave moves, he attaches the stirrups at the narrow side of the examination table. “Legs up,” he says. “How often do you shave here?” he says, touching the boy’s smooth crotch.

“Every morning.”

He spreads some shaving cream on the slave’s groin and testicles. “Doesn’t matter.” 

When he’s done, he takes a look at the slave. Legs up, ass exposed and open, smooth and vulnerable like a slave should be. “Perfect.” A look at his watch tells him he has another thirty minutes. “Since we know you have excellent muscle tone, let’s see how much we can spread your ass, shall we?” He takes a rectal speculum and pushes it inside the little hole. The slave grimaces. “Cold? It will get warm soon enough.” He strokes him a couple of times. “You’re so hot, you have no idea.”

The slave blushes, and looks away. 

“An experienced cock-slut like you shouldn’t feel much right now, it’s only four inches long after all and you have taken bigger things, haven’t you? Answer me, when I ask you something.” 

“Yes, Sir.”

“How big was the biggest cock you have taken?” He asks as he turns the screw and opens the blades of the speculum a little.

“Cock or dildo?”

“Erm... both?” Another turn.

“Cock? Ten inches. Dildo... twelve, I think.” Another cute blush. “It was a while ago, I don’t remember well.”

“Perhaps you need another reminder if you can’t remember. Did you like it?”

“No. No, Sir.”

“Why?” 

“It hurt.”

“Yes, that can be quite large, especially for a boy your age. But if you can’t take that, how will you ever take a man’s fist up your cunt?”

The slave squirms, and his eyes grow large. He looks like he’s about to cry, the poor lamb, and so he turns on the speculum at its most. The shame and sudden spreading make those gorgeous tears fall, and the slave lets out a hurt sob. 

“You mean, you’ve never?”

“No, Sir.”

“Hm.” Dean is famous for being good with his hands. It’s really strange that he hasn’t fisted his slave yet. He must have gone soft – soft with love, he smirks. Hm, another twenty minutes. Not enough time for everything he wants to do, so, he secures the speculum in the open position and goes to find the next toy he has to use. 

“You know what that is?”

“No, Sir.” 

“It’s a sound.” He takes the slave’s cock in his hand and squirts lube onto the top. Then he presses it into the urethra with his nail. 

“Ouch.”

“It hurts?”

“It’s cold, Sir.”

He continues lubing the little hole. “God, you’re spoiled,” he laughs. Then he lubes the sound. “I’ve chosen the slimmest I have,” he says, showing to the slave the thin, stainless steel rod. 

“Now, a good sound is heavy so it can slide inside just like this,” he says as he places the tip on the slave’s cock, supports the soft flesh with his other hand and lets it fall slowly downwards. 

“Oh.” The slave closes his eyes and lets his head drop back. 

“Does it hurt?”

“No, Sir, it’s just strange, Sir.”

He smirks. “You’ll get used to it.” He continues until most of the rod is inside the shaft. “Open your eyes.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Isn’t that a pretty sight? A hard, steel sound inside your pretty, soft dick?”

“Yes, Master.”

“How does it feel?”

“Full. Strange. But it doesn’t hurt.” He looks surprised at that.

“Not everything has to hurt.” He doesn’t add that seeing a slave blush so sweetly, with eyes still bright from tears is as beautiful a sight as seeing a slave’s ass turn bright red. “A slave with all his holes open for his Master’s pleasure is how a slave should be. And you, my dear, you are a natural. Your body is opening up so easily, and you just want to be filled, don’t you?”

The slave looks like he’d burn from the inside out. 

“I know why you want to cry,” he says. “Because your ass is wide open but there’s nothing fucking you. You feel so empty, don’t you, wanting dick so badly you feel like crying?” 

He takes a second sound and taps on the first. The slave almost jumps up, and holds on to the end of the table. “This feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir. It’s so intense.”

“And you can’t cum, can you?” He taps it two more times, and then he reaches for the slave’s prostate with his finger. It’s so easy to reach it now that the slave is so open for him. Another tap, and the slave whimpers. “Stay still. Can I make you cry from this? I wonder.”

He continues stimulating the slave, who’s trying so hard to stay in place and simply can’t. Within minutes, he’s trembling like a leaf, his skin shines with sweat, and his eyes are full of more tears. “Please, Sir,” he finally gasps. 

“Please, what?”

“Please, Sir, let me cum.”

“Have you earned the right to cum?”

“If Sir... Yes, Sir?”

He laughs, and taps the slave’s prostate at the same time as he taps on the sound. 

“Sir,” the slave pleads again, this time looking at him straight in the eyes with need and earnestness. 

“You little slut,” he grins as he closes the speculum almost completely and takes it out carefully. Then he removes the sound just as slowly. The slave watches his hand with lust-blown eyes. “Show me how you cum.”

The slave doesn’t need to be told twice. He wraps his right hand over his cock and reaches for his nipple with his left. His fingers barely close on the tight bud, when he cums at the first stroke. He continues caressing his chest gently as he finishes ejaculating, and then he lies back, relaxed and limp and prettily flushes. “Thank you, Sir,” he whispers, turning to look at him with relief. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he smirks. “We’re not done yet. Your Master came here because he was worried about your well-used ass. I can’t send you back with a gaping hole.” He puts an electrode plug into the slave’s ass and another electrode on his testicles. “Your master may be averse to electro-therapy, but it’s good if one wants quick results.”

The slave’s look of disbelief is priceless. His scream and his convulsions when he turns the electricity on are enough to make him cum.

&*&*

Cas won’t look at him when he opens the door, and Doc. looks like the cat that ate the canary. “Doc? Thanks for your help.” 

Doc smiles. “The pleasure was all mine, Dean.”

He doesn’t doubt it, but he is worried. He doesn’t want to punish Cas to the point of breaking him, and Cas is far too quiet. He pulls Cas next to him, puts one arm over his shoulders and guides him outside. “Come on, Cas, let’s go.”

Cas doesn’t acknowledge him. 

“Cas?” He settles him inside the car. “Want to talk about it?”

Cas shakes his head no. 

“Fine.” Cas will talk to him when he’s ready. But until then... “It was very brave of you to make an hour with the doctor a punishment. Not that I understand why you don’t like Doc, but...” Cas glances at him looking so annoyed that Dean shuts up, and doesn’t tell him that despite his manners, Doc is actually a very good doctor. “I noticed one thing, though,” he changes the subject. 

Cas refuses the bait and stares stubbornly out and away from him. 

Dean frowns. What the hell did Doc do to him? He turns the music on and focuses on the road because he really wants to yell at Cas and make him tell him what happened. 

“That’s not the way home. Master,” Castiel tells him fifteen minutes later. 

“I know.” He smiles a little. “We’re going to... you’ll see; it will be a surprise.”

Cas scowls. “Surprise,” he mutters darkly. 

“A nice surprise,” he insists. 

“Hm,” Cas snorts. 

“You’ll see. Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes, Master.”

Dean doesn’t like Cas’ tone. It’s too detached, too mechanic. Damnit, he’ll have to go ask Doc what he did to his Cas, so he can fix it later. So, he drives on until he’s at their destination, a little family restaurant that makes the best pizza and the best pie in town. 

“Come on, we have a table waiting for us.”

“What?”

“Dinner? I thought you’d be hungry.” He takes Cas’ hand and steers him inside. “Reservation for two. Name of Winchester,” he tells to the waiter who’s stationed behind the door. 

He checks the reservation book and even though he raises one eyebrow when he sees Cas, he still smiles politely. “Yes. Follow me.” 

Their table is by the toiler door and quite out of the way, but Dean doesn’t mind. He’s there for the food. “Sit down, Cas, you’re making me nervous when you stare like that.”

Cas obeys him. “I’m the only collared slave sitting,” he whispers a moment later, eyes still scanning the restaurant. 

“Well, tough luck. I’m not having you stand behind me, nor are you allowed to sit at my feet.” He’d noticed the people staring at them as well, but he doesn’t care. “My Cas is a person, right?”

“Yes, Master,” Cas nods and gives him the first real smile of the day. 

He smiles back. “I would have taken you to the zoo,” he admits softly, “but it closes at six and we were still at the doctor’s then. Maybe I’ll take you there on Saturday, if you’re a good slave.”

Cas’ face falls. 

“What now?”

“Am I a person, or a slave?”

“Didn’t we go through this before?” He sighs. “You’re both.”

“Then why won’t Master take me to the zoo if I’m a good person?”

Dean frowns. “Yes. You’re right. Cas,” he starts but the waiter is hovering over them. “Beer for me, and water for him.”

The waiter coughs. “That was not what I wanted to ask,” he says. 

“Then? Out with it.”

“Slaves are not allowed to sit in our restaurant. Could you please order your slave to either sit on the floor or stand?”

Dean glares, and checks the name tag on his shirt. “Yeah, or what, Richard?”

Richard flushes. “He may sit on your lap, if you insist, we have no rules against pets, after all, but...” 

“What bullshit is that? Cas is not a pet.” 

“Master, please, stop arguing,” Cas whispers to him as he stands up. “It’s not worth it.”

“Like hell it is.” He’s also standing up, and he’s shouting but he doesn’t care. “Can’t a man go out for dinner with his... friend?”

Richard bites his lips. “Sir, please. I’ll have to call the police if you insist on making a scene.”

“Fine, whatever. See if I ever come back here again, you bigoted bastard. And I’ll tell all my friends at what stupid rules you have here.”

“Most places have such stupid rules,” Richard sneers. “Good luck finding a place to serve you and... your friend.”

Dean growls as he takes Cas’ hand one more time and leads him out. “Sorry, Cas,” he says when they’re back in the car. “I know. They have food at the Lodge. Let’s go there. No one cares where you sit there.”

“Why can’t we just go home? Master?”

“Because you deserve a reward, damnit.” 

“It’s okay. I don’t mind going home. Master.”

“But I do. We’re going to the Lodge.”

“Yes, Master,” Cas says quietly. 

At least at the Lodge no one cares what he does. In fact, when Balthazar hears he’s there for the food, he sends him off to his own, private suite. “It’s because you brought Bunny with you,” he leers, and kisses Cas softly on the cheek, making Cas blush. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think Balthazar is trying to steal you away from me,” he says once they are inside an opulent room with heavy, wooden furniture, red velvet curtains and bronze statuettes of naked men everywhere.

Cas smiles a little. 

“My Cas is not for sale,” he growls. “I’ll free you some day, Cas, just you wait.”

“I will, Master,” Cas tells him, and his eyes are twinkling. 

“I swear, Cas.” He pulls out a chair and makes Cas sit. “God, Cas, can you believe those bastards?” He hears a door open and it’s Balthazar again. “You wouldn’t believe what happened,” he says, and tells him the whole story. “And they dared called Cas a pet. As if Cas is anything like those spoiled, good for nothing kept creatures.”

Balthazar smirks. “Oh, no. He’s nothing like them.”

Cas blushes red. 

“He’s not,” Dean insists. “Anyway, will you join us for dinner? We’re celebrating Cas’ bravery today. I’m so proud of him. He could have chosen anything as punishment, and yet he chose things that he really hates. Isn’t that brave?”

Balthazar frowns as he sits. “Yes, but if the punishments are so harsh, then are you sure he will be able to take them?”

“Erm... Cas, do you want to answer Balthazar?”

“Yes, thank you, Master. Yes, Sir, I am sure of that. Permission to speak, Master?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Balthazar looks like a fond, easily amused uncle. Dean narrows his eyes. Perhaps he is interested in getting Cas for himself. The bastard. 

“A punishment’s purpose is for correcting one’s behavior, and teaching one a lesson, right? And I have learned a lot from them, I have. So, would Master allow me to show Him what I’ve learned and that I want to be a good slave?”

“Cas, I thought you wanted to be a person.”

“Yes, I do, and I want to be a person who is also a good slave. For Master.” 

Balthazar almost claps his hands and grins in delight, but Dean is not that enthusiastic. “What’s the catch?” After all, his Cas is a bright boy who’s been spending time with his brother. 

Cas gets up and kneels down so gracefully that Dean feels the blood rushing into his dick. “No catch, Master. Just, let me show Master what I can do. Sir Balthazar, will you help me?”

“Anything you want, Bunny,” Balthazar replies as he stands up. “Dean, with your permission?”

“Yes, yes, whatever.” He doesn’t get it. Cas is planning something, but what? 

“I’ll have someone come get you when we’re ready,” he says, pulling Cas up easily and lifting him in his arms. “So, Bunny, what’s the plan?”

&*&*

Thing is, Castiel is not sure about what’s the plan. He doesn’t think there is a catch either. He just wants to show Master what he can do, and hope that Master understands what he can’t. He wants to be a person who plays the slave, not a slave who plays the person. Since he is a person, he wants to have a say on what happens to him, but he doesn’t know how to say it without sounding rebellious or spoiled. He definitely doesn’t want to say it in a way that makes Master feel insecure in his Mastery. 

Balthazar gets it immediately, though, and for a moment, Castiel wishes Balthazar managed to buy him off Master Dean. Balthazar would have been a kind Master, to him at least. But then what? Balthazar would keep him as a pet, spoiled rotten and probably tied to his bed. No more school, no more gym, no more training with Uriel. And when Balthazar would get bored with him, he’d probably torture him to death during one of his parties. No, he’s better off with Master Dean. 

But for now, Balthazar likes him, wants to fuck him but can’t, because he pretends he’s a man that sticks to his rules, and is willing to help him show Master his limits. Master likes to see him fucked because he feels like a powerful lord handing gifts to his vassals. Balthazar likes to see him fucked because he likes to imagine himself in their place. And Castiel? 

These past few months have shown him that he doesn’t mind getting fucked as long as they don’t hurt him. Pleasure is pleasure and there’s something inside him that wants it. Yes, he’s a slut; yes, he likes sex. He hates getting turned-on, having his erection cut off from the cage, and then going around frustrated and needy until Master frees him. He supposes such power over him makes Master feel more dominant, but he hates it, because it means he’s not getting as much sex as he could get, and god, he likes it. Cuming with the Doctor watching him was the last straw. If he can cum at the hands of that monster, then what is he but a sex-hungry slut as they kept telling him? 

So, he’s really not sure what’s the plan. Show Master that he craves dick, as He says, or that he’s more than a slut? He has no idea how he’ll do both, but first he must show Master what he likes, and the rest will follow. 

“Ready?” Balthazar asks him.

He nods. His heart is beating rapidly as Balthazar ties the blindfold. He hates not seeing but, unlike most things he hates, this is one of the things that also excite him. He likes touching his partners, discovering their bodies slowly one handful or one mouthful at the time. Each one is different, and even though none compares to Master, each one is beautiful in its own way. 

Balthazar kisses him sweetly on the lips. “For luck,” he whispers as he pulls back.

“Thank you,” he murmurs back. His throat is so dry he can hardly swallow. 

He doesn’t have to wait long. Someone tugs at his leash and guides him forward. 

“Look what I have,” a man says and he grabs him, one hand on the chest and another on his ass. He squeezes his butt and rubs his chest, and his touch is rough but not painful, possessive and assessing at the same time. 

“Could be prettier,” another man says, and he presses his hand over Castiel’s lips. He opens his mouth, and sucks them in, mapping them with his tongue: four thick fingers with short, blunt fingernails. Will this man fuck him open first, or the other? He shudders at the thought. This man has nice fingers for fucking. 

When he takes his hand away, Castiel moans. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you something better to suck soon,” he laughs, and kisses him deeply, holding his head in place. He tastes like mint, and Castiel chases the flavor with his tongue. 

While he’s being kissed, the other man continues to explore his body, stopping at his thighs to link his wrist cuffs to the leg cuffs he’s wearing, and then stopping at his ankles, where he ties the ankle cuffs. “All set,” he whispers. “Ready, boy?”

Castiel nods minutely. For a moment nothing happens, but then the man leaves him, Castiel feels cold where their bodies were touching and the next moment, the world turns upside down. Little by little he’s hoisted up, the blood is rushing to his head making him slightly dizzy. He wonders why did he choose that, but then there’s a cock pressing against his lips and the idea of sucking dick while upside down is more exciting that fear. 

A tight, hot mouth closes around his dick, and Castiel bucks into it, even as he opens his mouth to take the man’s cock into him. The cock slides easily into his throat, and the man sucks his dick like a man given his last drink. He moans around it, light-headed and more eager than usual, and thrusts with abandon. It’s like being electrocuted, power flowing from his mouth to his dick. 

Even the touch of leather on his ass does nothing to stop these wonderful sensations from flooding his body. The slight pain only intensifies the feeling of pleasure. He’s glad for the restraints, because he wants to touch the men so badly. 

When he starts crying from pain, they stop. For a moment he’s disoriented and confused, but then they move him down and hold him, touching him everywhere, teasing him with quick caresses on his genitals and nipples and rough gropes on his ass. Slowly the world stops moving, and when he starts rubbing himself against them, they move away and take him with them. 

“You haven’t earned dick yet, baby,” one of them tells him as he presses Castiel’s back against a wall.

Castiel sighs. He feels ready. 

“Impatient, aren’t you?” A mouth on his dick is great, but a hand is not bad too. Castiel’s hips move forward, as if that can add to the friction. 

The other man takes his hands and ties them up. When he’s done, he kisses Castiel deeply. He tastes like chocolate, bitter and dark. He’s having a chocolate mint, he laughs when the man releases him, and the man laughs with him. 

Laughter turns into a gasp when he feels a sharp burst of fire on his chest. A moment later he realises it’s cold he’s feeling, not warmth. The cold teases a trail down the middle of his chest and he shivers. It stops over his navel, and the ice melts slowly there. The next ice cubes circle his nipples, and he feels them as they tighten into hardness. One must be holding them, while the other suddenly presses an ice-cube on the head of his dick, and then slowly moves it along the shaft and down the testicles. 

“Spread your legs, baby,” he says, kissing the top of his thigh, right above the cuff. 

He feels cold and excited at the same time, as the man’s finger is teasing his hole. “You’re so fucking hot inside, you’ll melt this in no time,” he says as he slides it inside. Indeed, he feels water trickling down moments later. “I think I’ll give you one more.”

Castiel shudders. “Yes, please,” he whispers. 

“He’s insatiable,” the other man says, and then sucks his right nipple into his mouth. His tongue is hot against his flesh, and wet, and when the man grasps the nipple between his teeth, grazing them lightly, Castiel thrusts forward. 

“Oh, no,” the other man says, and as he presses another ice cube against him, he takes Castiel’s dick into his mouth. “Cum for me, pretty baby,” he says with a wet, slurping sound as he releases Castiel’s cock for a moment. When he slides the ice cube inside him, he sucks Castiel’s cock deeply in his throat. All the sensations blur into one massive, rolling wave of pleasure that rises and rises and, when the other man bites his nipple lightly and squeezes the left one between his fingers, Castiel shudders and cums.

He’s still gasping and shivering out his climax when he feels the men release him. He almost collapses but one of them supports them and brings him gently down. 

“Screw this,” he murmurs. 

Castiel gasps. “Master?”

“Shush,” Master tell him as he pulls him up. 

Master is still dressed but when He settles Castiel in his lap, Castiel feels His burning, pulsing, naked erection. He reaches down to touch it, and it’s warm and slick. Master’s hand closes around Castiel’s, and for a few moments, he guides him as he strokes His dick. 

“So, that’s what you can do?” Master gasps.

Castiel rises up a little and guides Master’s erection against his hole. “I can do this too,” he whispers. 

Master takes his hand away and Castiel sinks down, hissing at the slight burn and the sudden stretch. 

Master immediately kisses his cheeks. Then his mouth. Then the tip of his nose. Then he removes the blindfold and kisses his eyelids, first the right and then the left. “My Cas,” he moans, rubbing his cheek against Castiel’s. “My pretty Cas.”

“Master.”

Master doesn’t let him move; He keeps his hands firmly on Castiel’s waist and holds him down. But each minute thrust of His cock is hitting his prostate, and Castiel trembles, feeling another orgasm coming. 

“Yes, baby, cum for me,” Master tells him.

Master’s command draws another orgasm from him and Castiel shudders through it, holding Master tightly. 

“So pretty, so sweet,” Master praises him in between kisses. His thighs are trembling, and His hips thrust up rapidly. “You’re mine, Cas, all mine,” He gasps as He cums inside Castiel.

“Yes, Master.”

Master smiles, and kisses him again. Now that He’s finished, His hands wander on Castiel’s body, petting him everywhere they touch him. Castiel simply holds on, too tired to move. “I think I got it,” He says some time later. “You have low tolerance for pain.”

“Don’t make me work on it,” Castiel blurts out. “Please. Master.”

“So...”

“Please, don’t hurt me anymore.” Castiel stares at Master. “Please? I can be good, so good,” he starts, feeling panic. He didn’t have a plan, but this was not how this discussion should have gone.

Master looks at him with sadness. “Oh, Cas, I’ve done this?” 

Castiel looks back, not understanding. Why is Master blaming himself for Castiel’s lack of self-control? If Master should feel guilt, it should be for hurting him – if Masters can feel guilt. 

Master sighs. Master seems to be struggling with something, but when Castiel tries to move, He holds him down again. He looks up, and around, and Castiel remembers suddenly that they’re not alone, they’re in Balthazar’s Red Room, and god knows how many are watching. 

He rubs the back of His neck. “Cas, we need to talk. But not here. Not now.”

Ever-obedient, Castiel nods. “Yes, Master.”

&*&*

It is not a discussion Dean had ever expected to make. The whole point of owning sex slaves is that you can do whatever you want without fear of repercussion, without the moral and legal restrictions that come with relationships between two free persons, or a free person and his Companion. Yet, there he is, taking a day off, staring at the graceful, yet leisurely way a giraffe is munching on tree leaves while Cas has his first taste of vanilla milkshake, and not knowing how to start. 

Cas makes a face. 

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s okay, Master.”

“Here, try mine.” 

Cas studies him. “Thank you, Master,” he finally says as he takes the chocolate milkshake off Dean. 

Dean sighs. He wishes they could have this discussion elsewhere, but that bastard waiter was right; there is nowhere he can take Cas, sit down and share a piece of pie or a burger with him. Not even at the zoo cafe. It’s just not fair, and it’s because of people like him. “Do you like it?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Great, you can have it.”

Cas frowns. “Master, permission to speak?”

“Yes, Cas. I thought we had talked about this.”

“In public, I’m slave. Master’s rule. Master.”

Dean groans. “Not really. Cas, we do need to talk.”

“Yes, Master.”

“No, wait, you wanted to say something?”

“Just to ask what was the matter. Is Master unhappy with me? Master doesn’t look very pleased right now, even though it is a nice day, and,” he glances at the giraffes as if no one should be allowed to be sad around animals. 

“No, no, it’s not you.” Dean sighs again. “Cas, do you want to stay with me? Be honest.”

Cas frowns and tilts his head. “Where else could I go?”

“Sam. He’d be happy to have someone to help him with his homework.”

“Sam lives in a flat that is smaller than the kitchen. Master.”

Dean laughs. “That’s true.” He sobers. “There’s also Balthazar. He’s rich.”

Cas’ expression is one of utter distaste, scrunching his nose. 

“I could free you, set you up on your own.”

“I... I do like Master,” Cas whispers. 

Cas slurps noisily his milkshake, whether by accident, or intent it doesn’t matter, and Dean feels like someone cut the tension between them with a knife, and suddenly he’s free of it. “So, we’re stuck with each other,” he snorts. “Then, we really need to talk. Cas, do you know how in other countries, where they don’t have slaves, people sometimes become sex-slaves on their own volition?”

Cas shakes his head. His expression shows that he doesn’t believe a word of it.

“Yeah, I know, people becoming sex-slaves voluntarily, whatever are they thinking? But it’s true, and in those cases, people are both persons and slaves. They are free in front of the law, but at home, they have a Master, either for the whole day, or just during sexual acts. Both Master and slave sign a contract, but it is not legally binding – it is only between them, and can be broken when either person is not happy with the other. And in that contract, they both state openly and clearly what they want out of their relationship.”

Cas’ eyes widen.

“So... I can’t offer you this here. Since you have no rights, you can’t even sign a private contract between us but... You can tell me clearly and openly what you want, and I will tell you what I want, and... when we have sex, we can play at Master and slave, but the rest of the time we're just Cas and Dean.” Cas looks so confused that Dean smiles. “For example, I like seeing you with other men in public. How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t like it much.” Cas shrugs. “But I can do it, if Master wants.”

“Okay, your turn.”

“I don’t like being caned. Or electrocuted.”

“Fine. I can do without. How do you feel about being flogged?”

“It’s okay if it’s done for a little while.”

“Flogged on the genitals?”

“No.”

“Maybe?”

Cas thinks about it. “Maybe? Very, very lightly, on special occasions?”

“Okay, so that’s more a ‘no’ than a ‘maybe’. Duly noted. What else is a no? The kind of ‘no, never, stop’. Let’s start from those.”

“Fisting. Very large toys. I don’t want to have a surgery, Master.”

“I don’t want that either, baby. I promise you, my dick will be the largest thing I’ll ever give you.”

Cas blushes, but Dean is certain it’s from lust and not embarrassment. 

“What else?”

“Being fucked by many men in a row. Even with lube, it hurts when I’m fucked by more than two men. I don’t know how others manage. Master.”

“Alright.” Dean grins. “You know what, though? I think that, at least for a while, I won’t let anyone else fuck your pretty ass. It’s all mine, Cas, and I’m not sharing that.”

“Thank you, Master.”

In the end, they kick them out of the zoo and they still haven’t finished going through all their likes and dislikes. In some things, Cas is the most vanilla person Dean has ever met. In others, the most curious. But Dean is certain that he won’t be getting bored any time soon. Perhaps ever.


	7. Chapter 7

The key to a good relationship is communication, but the door that this key opens or locks is compromise. A week after making his relation with Cas official, and changing Cas’ status into that of a Companion – effectively changing him from a thing to a person with limited rights in the eyes of the law – Cas comes to him asking to renegotiate their list of likes and dislikes. 

Not causing much pain remains non-negotiable, and that causes Dean great amusement. At some point during the three years he’s had Cas, he’s learned that instead of doing swimming or tennis or aerobics or something like that, Cas has taken up martial arts. He’s even seen him fight and he knows that Cas can take a beating or two, so there must be something else that makes him respond so badly to pain during sex. 

Still, he doesn’t press the issue. He’s been horrified himself with his need to cause pain and, like a drug addict realising his addiction, he’s trying to quit. He doubts he’ll ever manage that, but he tries, staying within Cas’ limits all the time, and when he needs something more, he either watches a film or goes at the Lodge. 

The true point of contention turns out to be Dean’s greatest kink. Cas hates having sex with others, especially in public, but Dean still finds it extremely arousing. They spend two days arguing about it and at some point Dean is certain Cas will tell him that it’s either his way or no way, and walk out on him, which would probably make theirs the shortest period of Companionship in the whole history of the Companions’ institution. 

After all, Companions can say ‘no’, and if that is not respected, they have the right to leave, and make a claim for freedom. A claim that, as Sam pointedly reminded him at some point during that two-day argument, is always granted, since to make a slave into a Companion means that the slave has repaid his debt, is worthy of freedom, and the Master who can’t respect a ‘no’ from such a person is an unworthy person himself. 

Dean doesn’t need Sam to tell him that, though. That Cas was willing to discuss things with him instead of setting down rules is a measure of his love for Dean. It’s just so difficult for him to give up on that. He wants everyone to know Cas is his; he wants them all to see how lovely Cas is, and how wonderful, and how much he belongs to him. And that’s the problem; he doesn’t own Cas like that anymore. But he loves him, and so they compromise. 

No more sex in public for his Cas anymore. But every now and then (no more than once a month) Dean can make arrangements for a private party. See how it goes for a year, and then they can discuss it again – perhaps Cas’ objections have to do with public sex rather than the multiple partners. Perhaps Dean will change his mind. 

Not that it’s easy reaching that settlement. The only way Dean manages to persuade Cas to continue having sex with others for Dean’s pleasure, is by surrendering himself to Cas once a week. 

It’s how he finds himself waiting for Cas. He expects that at the end of the session Cas will fuck him thoroughly, but apart from that, he has no idea what else is in store for him. Cas’ instructions were simple: ‘clean yourself inside and out, and wait for me in the bedroom, naked’. Kneeling on the floor was Dean’s idea. 

Instead of making him apprehensive, not knowing what Cas will do to him makes him half-hard. Cas knows so many things, so many ways to please a man, but Dean now wants to find out what Cas’ pleasure is. He doubts that Cas will hurt him, but what if he does? The idea of Cas wielding a slim, black whip in his elegant, strong hands is exciting. What if he doesn’t?

Cas gasps when he sees him, and his eyes shine. “Dean,” he whispers, clearly in awe. 

Dean smiles, wishing to show Cas that he can be an obedient, willing slave for him. 

Cas shows him his hand. There’s a slim, red leather collar there. “May I?”

“I thought the point was to surrender to you,” he grins, breaking out of character. “You don’t have to ask.”

Cas frowns, and looks at him disappointed. “Dean, I don’t want you to do something you’re not willing to do. I appreciate that your submission is consensual.”

Dean feels a stab of pain in his chest. He nods. 

“Well?” Cas sounds anxious.

“Yes, Cas, it’s fine.” He stares at Cas steadily. “Cas. I don’t want you to ask for anything. Just take what you want. If I need you to stop, if things get too much, I’ll tell you ‘Led’.”

“Led? That’s your safeword.”

“Led Zeppelin is a mouthful,” Dean grins. 

Cas gives him a tiny smile, and nods in understanding. He raised Dean’s head next and traces his fingers across his neck. He looks so fascinated by whatever he sees that Dean smiles. Cas’ hands are so gentle on his skin, so curious, and even when they fasten the collar on him, they’re still tender. 

Cas watches him for a moment, appraising him, and Dean can’t help but look back, even though he’s careful not to look at him in the eyes. Cas is gorgeous. There are no marks on him, all the bruises form the last party at the Lodge have healed, and now it’s just flawless skin hiding strong, lean muscles. 

One moment Cas is still as a statue, the next he moves and jumps on the bed, where he sprawls decadently on the red covers. The collar’s color suddenly makes sense. When Cas tugs at it, Dean follows obediently. God, Cas looks even prettier against the deep, dark red. 

“Once,” Cas tells him softly, “you said you wanted to eat me up. Lick me all over.”

Dean doesn’t remember using those exact words, but he can believe he said it. Cas is delectable.

“So, I want you to do just that. I want you to lick me and kiss me from my toes to the top of my head.” He wiggles his toes and smiles at him.   
“Yes, Sir,” he grins and presses his mouth on the soft skin on the arch of Cas’ foot. If that’s all Cas wants, Cas has even simpler tastes than Dean expected. But that’s alright. It’s more than alright. He always wanted to taste Cas all over, but never managed, the lure of Cas’ body too much for him to control himself for more than five minutes. But now he can do it.

And even though it takes ages to kiss Cas everywhere, and when he reaches the top of his head, Cas laughs, twists beneath him and presents him with more skin that needs kissing, he doesn’t mind. Cas is sensitive and responsive, and Dean learns his body more intimately now than in the three years he’d owned him. How could he have missed all those spots that make Cas gasp and all those places that make Cas moan? 

Dean takes his time, and learns.

&*&*

By the third week, they have establishes a routine for ‘Dean’s night of surrender’. Dean has a shower first and cleans himself thoroughly. When he’s finished, he goes and waits in the bedroom, kneeling patiently while Castiel washes himself. Then Castiel goes to him, put the collar on him and looks at him. 

Dean is so beautiful and for a night, he’s all his. So far Castiel hasn’t done anything more than make Dean kiss him, and rub him everywhere, but there are so many more things he wants to do, apart from having Dean touch him. And he will do them all, one thing at the time. 

The few times Dean had tied him up with rope, Castiel hadn’t seen the point of putting so much effort into tying him up, but now that he has Dean all to himself, he gets it. Dean is fairly big and muscular, and the idea of restraining this beautiful, strong body now that he knows that Dean is patient and giving and obedient, is too exciting to pass. But it’s more than that; it’s knowing that Dean trusts him that makes Castiel want to bind him. 

He wants to love him, hold him, stop him from turning to others to find release, stop him from finding pleasure in sharing Castiel. He is obsessed and obsessive and he wants so much, but since words are not adequate to show how mad he is about Dean, he will tie him up and hold him his captive. 

Dean only grins when he sees the coil of hemp rope in Castiel’s hands. He gives his hands to Castiel with complete trust, and then Castiel moves them behind Dean’s back and starts tying them. It makes something like happiness flutter inside him to feel Dean’s reaction; he was scared that Dean would fight him, but instead Dean stands calmly and relaxed. 

When Castiel starts weaving the rope, Dean looks down in curiosity, and when Castiel moves behind him, Dean suddenly clears his throat. “Take some pictures. I want to see this.”

Castiel is happy to oblige. Dean’s pectorals are framed by lines of rope, nothing fancy. But at the back there’s a delicate pattern of interlocking diamonds, looking even more decorative when compared to the thick ropes coiled around Dean’s bound arms. 

But the true surprise is the sight that Castiel sees when he turns around. Dean’s cock is hard, red and leaking at the top. It’s the most beautiful cock there is, and Castiel slides to his knees and takes him in his mouth hungrily. Dean thrusts helplessly forward, shifts his shoulders trying to move his hands, and looks down blissful and frustrated at the same time while Castiel sucks him. God, how he loves Dean’s cock stretching his mouth and filling his throat. 

Dean’s release is swift, and for a moment Dean looks shocked, as shocked as Castiel who thought Dean would last longer. Still, he licks his lips, pushes Dean on the bed, and climbs on top of him. He doesn’t even have to tell Dean to open his mouth; Dean reaches for him and kisses him deeply, moaning as he licks Castiel’s mouth. Castiel could cum from the heat of Dean’s kiss, and the friction as his cock rubs against Dean’s soft, warm dick. 

Instead, he reaches for the lube and spreads it on his hand. He pushes into Dean blindly with a finger and Dean pushes back, lifting his hips with abandon. “Yes, Sir, please,” Dean gasps. “Fuck me.”

Dean is as hot as a furnace, tight flesh clenching around his fingers as he presses two fingers inside him. He wants to fuck him but not before Dean’s ready for him.

Dean whines. “Please, Sir.”

“No.”

He finds Dean’s prostate and massages him gently. Dean spreads his legs open. “Please, please, Cas, Sir, please, fuck me,” he continues to gasp while Cas is fascinated by the small, spongy piece of flesh against his finger. It’s so delicate, and yet so resilient, and it makes Dean tremble when he touches it. 

“Fuck, Sir.”

“Beg me for it.”

Dean gasps and for a moment he freezes. But then he smiles, a small, rueful smile that blossoms into a lustful grin. Dean starts moving against Cas’ hand, pressing down and up and soon he fucks himself. “Yes, Sir,” he moans. “I want your dick inside me, Sir. Split me open, Cas, I’m wet enough for you. I’m ready, Sir. Fuck me.”

“Why should I fuck you?”

“Because I’m a slut.”

“Wrong answer.” He caresses Dean’s prostate gently, but even that is enough to make Dean jump, his cock finally responding to the stimulation.

“Because I’m hungry for it.”

“Wrong answer.” He uses his free hand to stroke Dean’s cock, feeling its silky smoothness trapped in his palm.

Dean bites his lips and throws his head back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He can’t stop moving his hips, seeking friction. “Because you love me.”

“Yes,” Castiel smiles, grabs Dean by the hips and pulls him forward, entering him in one smooth motion. 

Dean clenches for a moment, and then he relaxes, taking Castiel inside him like he was meant for this. “Fuck, Cas, so good. This stretch, this fullness.”

Castiel nods. He feels good too; Dean is so hot and tight and perfect and he loves him so much, he wants to make him cum again. Soon. And then do it all over again.

&*&*

Two months later, there is a new addition in the basement. “What the hell?” Dean asks the moment he sees it. It’s not exactly a monstrosity, but it looks like something out of a horror film. It’s a steel box, with branches of thorns, also made of gleaming steel, sprouting out of every corner and surface. They’re all pointing outwards, and Dean wonders if he’s to be tied between them or pressed against them. 

“Don’t you like it?” Cas pulls him easily towards it. The rope bites into his skin whenever Cas moves him, especially around his balls and into his ass, but that slight pain only makes him harder. 

“What is it?”

“It’s a cage.” Cas slides his hand between the thorns, pulls at something and a door opens. He then unties the ropes that cut into his ass and his thighs, and pushes Dean inside. 

There’s just a stool inside, and Dean recognises the dildo placed on top of it. Kinky, he grins. 

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Sit, Dean.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The toy is lubed and Cas had prepared him before they went down, but even so he finds it uncomfortable sitting on it. He’s only had Cas’ dick inside him, and Cas is smaller than him. His respect for Cas grows the more he has to take, and when it’s all inside him, he sighs. 

“Too full?”

He nods, taking deep breaths.

“You’ll get used to it,” Cas tells him with a smirk. “I did,” he mutters as he slides down and starts wrapping Dean’s balls with a deep red rope that matches his collar. A couple of twists later, he moves on to his cock, and Dean shivers. His dick feels on fire, but Cas’ hands are cool when they touch him. Once his dick is secure, Cas returns to his balls.

Seriously, Cas is completely obsessed with the art of rope, but he can’t complain. Not when he sees the ease with which Cas binds him. Not when he sees his fingers at work, elegant and strong, creating patterns that do look beautiful. “We should put a mirror here,” he says softly. 

Cas looks up. “You see something you like?”

Dean smiles. He knows he’s handsome but Cas makes him into a work of art. His torso and back are defined by a red rope tied around him in broad geometric patterns, diamonds and triangles and polygons. Art is not something he sees about him, but when Cas looks at him, wrapping the rope about him full of seriousness and concentration, he can accept it. 

His cock is finally wrapped, and tied with a neat little bow at the end that makes Cas smile. “There,” he says moving away and slamming the door shut.

A moment later he realises the full extent of Cas’ deviousness. The toy starts moving inside him. The friction is minimal, the burn slight, but the movement is altogether glorious. 

Between the thorns he sees Cas move and bring a chair straight into his line of vision. Cas sits, spreading his legs widely. He looks like a vision, something one could glimpse hiding behind bushes in an enchanted forest, and when he lifts his hands and starts caressing himself, Dean moans. 

“Can you see what I’m doing, Dean?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re touching yourself. Your left hand is on your chest and your right is on your thigh. No, on your dick. No, on your balls. You are touching yourself,” he finishes with a whimper because he can see where Cas’ fingers are going and he wants to touch him too. 

Cas grins. “Do you see this?”

“Yes, Sir. It’s a bottle of oil.”

“When you first touched me, you used oil. Remember?”

Dean’s cock fills with blood. He remembers. “Extra virgin,” he swallows, the memory of his fingers inside Cas for the first time making his hands clench into fists.

“You’ve made me like oil more than lube ever since.” Cas pours some on his chest, and it shines as it trickles down his skin. 

Dean moans. 

“You look so beautiful like that, flushed and bound and untouchable,” Cas tells him in an awed whisper. “I want to show you how much you turn me on, Dean.”

What about me? Dean wants to say, but he doesn’t. This isn’t about him. This is about Cas.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” Cas whispers. “Do you know why I had this cage made?”

“No, Sir.” Cas must have set the machine fucking him at random, because now the dildo is thrusting in him shallowly, and it’s like a slow morning fuck, lazy and relaxed. 

“Because some days I want you so much that if I have you, I’ll tear you apart.”

“Do it,” Dean says, challenging him. 

Cas moans, closing his eyes and shaking his head. 

Dean has never been wanted so much. None of his previous slaves had ever claimed to want him so much. None of the girls that he’d dated in the past had ever made such declarations. He ought to be afraid, but then again, he knows Cas. He’s passionate and strange and sweet and polite and if he ever torn Dean apart, he’d put him back together afterwards. “I wish you’d do it,” he whispers. “God knows you deserve it.”

“You don’t,” Cas tells him quietly, stroking himself furiously. “I want you so much.”

“Take me.”

“No,” Cas moans. “Not until you want me.”

“I do.”

“But,” Cas manages a smile, “you’re not begging me to release you yet. You don’t want me.”

Dean laughs. He closes his eyes, and lets his body respond to the stimulation, but a moment later, he changes his mind. He doesn’t want to be turned on just because this fake dick is fucking deeply into him. He wants it because Cas is there, watching him through half-closed eyes and breathing his name as he caresses himself. This is for Cas, not him.


	8. Chapter 8

Uriel glares at him. “You’re completely useless today, Castiel.”

Castiel stays on the mat. “Whatever gave you that idea?” he glares back.

“It’s not me you’re angry at,” Uriel tells him. 

“I’m not angry at anyone.”

Uriel snorts. He still towers over Castiel, but he suddenly stretches out his hand, offering it to him. 

Instead of taking it, Castiel drags Uriel down. At least he tries. Uriel is still bigger and stronger than him, and when Castiel is not making an effort, it’s easy for Uriel to pull back, grab Castiel and lift him up like he weighs nothing.

“What is wrong with you today?” Uriel snaps at him when Castiel just stares at him.

“I don’t know.”

Uriel takes a deep breath. “You’re lucky there’s no one else here at the moment, or I would have beaten you up for acting like a spoiled brat. The shit I let you get away with,” he mutters, half amused.

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m supposed to be training for the tournament next month, not playing child-minder.”

“I’m not a child.”

“I’m not so sure.” Uriel smiles. “I asked you to train with me because you’re quick on your feet and you think before you strike. But today, you’re really like a child, uncoordinated and impatient. Your mind is elsewhere, and you’re no use to me.”

“It’s Dean,” Castiel sighs.

Uriel sighs a moment later. “Dean. Of course.” He sits down on a bench, frowning at Castiel. “Is there anything that doesn’t have to do with your Master?”

“He’s not my Master anymore. Not exactly,” Castiel sighs as he sits next to him.

He snorts. “Bullshit,” he says a minute later as if his reaction wasn’t clear enough.

“You don’t understand.”

“Damned right, I don’t. If he really were a decent man, he would have freed you. This Companion thing? Tell me, Castiel, what kind of a repayment does he want for paying your tuition fees and expenses? You’re no different than a whore now.”

“It’s not like that,” he says, as he tries to hit Uriel. 

Uriel not only blocks him, but throws him down. “Really? You still let him fuck you,” he says, his lips curling in disgust. “You still do what he wants.”

“I fuck him,” Castiel gasps. “He lets me. Do stuff.” He stares at Uriel. “I like it. I want more.” He gets up and pushes Uriel against the wall. “I want to put my mark on him. Not a collar that he can take off. No, a tattoo, or a brand. I want to burn him. I want – what if I’m becoming just like him, Uriel? What if...”

Uriel grabs his wrists and pushes him down again. “Sit. Take a deep breath. And one more. That’s it. Breathe in. Breathe out. Fuck.”

Castiel can’t relax, no matter how he tries. “I don’t want to become a Master. And... What if this is all because I think I love him?” Uriel’s expression remains unchanged, patient and horrified at the same time. It’s why he finds it so easy to speak to Uriel. Uriel is like a mirror – he won’t judge, but he will listen. “I’ve never...”

Uriel groans. 

“No, not that,” he laughs. “Sex is easy, but love? That’s difficult.”

“Love, sex,” Uriel snorts. “I swear, half the time you mutter about the one, and the other half about the other. And it’s always Master this, or Master that, and now it’s Dean this, Dean that.” 

“You really don’t understand,” Castiel tells him softly. “I’m not like you, Uriel. I wasn’t taught to be useful. The life of a sex slave revolves around his or her Master. We are taught to obey, and look pretty. Dean and his brother have helped me learn how to think for myself and yet...” Uriel doesn’t say a word. He’s not a mirror; he’s a well, and Castiel throws in his rocks of thoughts. “This? Knowing that I’ll be free one day? Having a Master that claims he’ll love me until then? It’s the ultimate fantasy of a sex slave. Next to having your family find you and claim you back. And – what if what I feel is nothing but conditioning and gratitude?”

“What does it matter?”

Castiel blinks.

“Feelings are unnecessary. They distract you from reaching your goals, and keep you from fighting. They muddle your thinking. They make you weak.” Uriel sneers. “They make you act like a child when you are a man.”

“They have their uses,” he replies, even though he can’t think of one at the moment. 

“Yeah? Your feelings have just spoiled a perfectly good practice session today because they kept you from concentrating on fighting.”

“But... I’m so confused.”

Uriel glares at him. “Spoiled,” he mouths. 

“You always call me that.” 

Uriel smiles. 

“Uriel, do you trust me?”

“No.” He grins.

“Good.” He stands up. “Follow me?”

Despite what he says, it’s what Uriel does that matters, and he does follow Castiel outside. He doesn’t even grumble much as Castiel leads him to a seedy motel that charges by the hour, a place that he knows because Dean... That’s the Dean he doesn’t like that much, and so he tries not to think about him – or what he makes Castiel do. But that also means that the clerk behind the reception does not even blink when Castiel pays him for a room. 

“What now?” Uriel says as Castiel closes the door to the room. 

“Now?” He makes Uriel sit on the edge of the bed. “Would you do me a favor?”

Uriel narrows his eyes. “Castiel, no.”

“Come on. If sex means nothing, as you said....” 

“I didn’t, you did. I said that feelings are useless.”

“For you, maybe. But not for me.”

“So, what do you need me for? I thought you had Dean,” Uriel snorts.

“But I don’t know if what I feel is real or not. I’ve never been with anyone I cared about, but, well...”

“Out with it.”

Castiel touches Uriel’s arm carefully. “You’re the only one I ever wanted to make love to.”

“Apart from Dean,” Uriel says, with a hint of bitterness.

“Apart from him. I want to know, if it’s the same or not. If I touch you,” he runs his fingers across Uriel’s arm, “what will I feel?”

Uriel shivers. “Castiel...” He doesn’t remove his hand, though. He simply stares at it. 

“I know what you must think. That I’m using you,” he whispers. “But, I can’t imagine doing this with anyone, and having the same meaning as doing it with you. You’re my friend, Uriel. I care for you.”

“And then what?”

Castiel shrugs.

Uriel’s gaze falls on Castiel’s lips for a moment. “This would be such a bad idea,” he whispers. “You’re all emotions and heart. I have no use for such things.”

“Then, think of this as training against these useless feelings.” Castiel, emboldened by Uriel’s stillness, reaches and touches the back of his neck gently. 

“You’re using me,” Uriel protests.

“You’ll use me too.”

Uriel sighs. “I don’t want to.”

Castiel nods and stops touching Uriel. “I see.” He understands; what he asked for was to use his friend. He respects Uriel’s decision, even when he doesn’t know how to ask anyone else. There’s no one else, anyway. It’s just sex with everyone else. 

Uriel suddenly puts his hand on top of Castiel’s knee. “I don’t want to use you,” he says gently, and Castiel can see that this is a big decision for Uriel. “But I want to help you. If this will help you sort out your...” he smirks, “feelings for that idiot, then I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Castiel smiles, happily surprised.

“I won’t say it again.” 

“Uriel, I owe you one.” He suddenly moves, pushes Uriel back and straddles him. “You won’t regret it,” he promises as he takes off his shirt. 

Uriel just stares at him. “I think I already do,” he murmurs, but when Castiel shifts, he feels his hardness. Uriel blushes at the contact. 

“No, you don’t.” Castiel spreads himself on top of Uriel and nuzzles him. “You’ll see; you’ll love this.” He sucks Uriel’s lower lip between his.

Uriel moans when he bites his lip gently, spreads his legs, and starts rubs his dick against Castiel’s. “You have too many clothes on,” he tells him. 

“So do you.” 

Uriel grins. He throws Castiel off, and starts removing his clothes. It’s a race, and Castiel has had a headstart, but Uriel still manages to strip before him. Castiel’s eyes are drawn to his dick; it’s thicker than he remembers, and perhaps longer too. It’s the thickness that grabs his attention, after all, not the length.

Uriel strokes himself. “Thought you wanted to touch me.”

“God, yes.” 

Uriel shakes his head. “I’ll never understand you,” he says, but he’s smiling and his hands are gentle on his shoulders when Castiel covers his dick with his mouth, and presses small kisses on the head. 

There’s nothing to understand; Castiel is curious if he can feel anything for anyone who is not Dean. Not the rush of sex, and climaxing, not the frenzy of his body when he forgets himself – or when he remembers what a good slave is supposed to be like. That strange, deep connection, that calmness that settles on him when he’s spent, the joy he feels when Dean gasps his name brokenly. But for now, he wants to make sure Uriel doesn’t feel used. He wants to make him feel desired, needed, full of useless emotions. And if the way Uriel is gasping his name is any indication, Castiel thinks he will succeed.


	9. Chapter 9

“Hey, baby, what’s that smell?”

“Hello to you too,” Cas shouts back from the kitchen.

“Hello, Cas.” Dean smiles, leaning against the entrance and watching Cas stir something furiously. Cas doesn’t cook often, but when he does, it’s always a treat. 

“Sam is coming over to bring me some books, so... I’m making Magda’s vegetarian gulash.”

“Vegetarian,” Dean mutters.

“Not eating meat once in a while won’t hurt you. Quite the opposite, in fact.” 

He snorts. “I beg to differ.” 

“You’re trying to change the subject,” Cas tells him, still stirring. 

“What was the subject?”

“That I’m trying to do something nice for Sam, and Sam likes to eat healthily.”

“Unlike me.”

“Dean, without Magda we’d eat pizzas, burgers and nothing else.”

“Don’t forget pies.”

“Yes, that too,” Cas snorts. 

Dean decides to drop the subject completely. “So, how was your day?”

“School. Gym. Library. And yours?”

“Work.” He takes a deep breath. “I went to the Lodge today.”

Cas goes still.

“Balthazar showed me the new cages. And the other things.”

“I see.” 

“Cas, why didn’t you tell me that you were working for him?”

A shrug is his answer.

“Is it the money? Because I could raise your allowance.”

Cas drops the spoon down, and pours water in the pot. “It’s not that,” he says, and he finally turns to face him. “Although... That’s part of it.”

“Cas. I told you, money is not an issue. If you want more, just tell me.” 

“I don’t want to tell you. I don’t want to rely on you like that. This...” He makes a vague gesture around him.

“Cas, we’re family. That’s what family does. They help you when you need it. Sometimes even when you don’t. Unless...” He feels a weight drop inside his stomach. “Unless you don’t feel like that about me.”

Cas stares at him.

It’s only three steps between him and Cas. One more moment before he hugs him. “Cas, baby, I don’t want you to work. I want you to focus on your studies. You can work later.”

“I’ll repay you then,” Cas tells him solemnly.

“God.” Sometimes talking to Cas is like talking to a wall. “I don’t need a repayment.”

“Okay,” Cas tells him doubtfully. 

“So, no more working for Balthazar, okay?”

Cas pushes him away and narrows his eyes. “That was your point, wasn’t it?”

“No, the point is you’re smart and you can do anything you want. But if you mess up your studies, you’ll probably end up working in an office, slaving over other people’s work.”

“I could join the army.”

“Not at twenty-eight you won’t.”

“I could leave you and then join the army.”

Dean takes another deep breath. “Now you’re being foolish.” Cas glares at him. Dean finds him irresistible when he’s mad. He grabs Cas’ wrist and pulls him to him. “Baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss on Cas’ neck and slipping his hand beneath Cas’ shit. 

“I could do it,” Cas sighs.

“You could, but do you want to?” He nuzzles Cas, taking in his smell. A bit of sweat, a bit of soap, a bit of onions. 

“No, but...” Cas stretches against him like a cat, his hands sliding inside the back pockets of Dean’s jeans. 

“But what, baby?”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Balthazar,” he smiles as he twists and turns, and pushes Dean back until his back hits the table’s edge. 

Dean snorts, but perhaps he is a little bit jealous. Balthazar is rich, and sophisticated, and even though he can be brutal, he’s never been anything but gentle with Cas, unlike him. If Balthazar got Cas, and then got bored with him, Dean is certain that he’d give him enough money to live like a king for the rest of his life. Dean can’t compete with that. 

“He means nothing, Dean.”

“Then, why are you working for him?”

Cas avoids his eyes, and blushes for a moment.

“Damn it, Cas.”

He doesn’t know how Cas manages to lift him up and settle him on the table. He doesn’t know how he then proceeds to push him down, until Dean is lying on his back. Then Cas is holding him down, his hands trapping him as effectively as leather cuffs. But then again, perhaps the effectiveness of Cas’ restrains have nothing to do with his strength, and everything with the way he looks, fierce and proud and unstoppable, and the way Dean responds to him. 

“You really want to know why?”

“Yes, Cas, tell me.”

“For you. I did it for you.” Cas blushes again, but doesn’t let him go. “I wanted to learn how to tie you up, so...”

“You went to Balthazar.”

“I could hardly practice on a mannequin. And when I asked him how I could get in touch with someone to make a cage for you, he asked to see what I had in mind and...”

Dean nods. Still... Cas is so against slavery, he refuses to eat meat since he thinks the animals are enslaved and unable to consent to what happens to them. And when he once asked, ‘so, if they could consent, would you eat them?’ Cas had changed color and almost puked. “You, tying up a slave for practice?”

The pale pink on Cas’ cheeks turns into a deep red. “Balthazar introduced me to some slaves who like it. They convinced me that for them it is most desirable.”

Cas’ expression tells Dean that Cas is keeping something from him. “And?” he grins. 

“And.... They like it more when I do it. Something about being dominated by a handsome, young man,” he mumbles. He tilts his head a little. “I don’t get it, but...”

But Dean does. Beauty and youth have power, and as wonderful as it is to crush them, it’s just as wonderful to submit to them. “Has Balthazar tried to recruit you yet? Make you take part in his little scenes as a dom this time?” 

“No.” Cas shudders. “What an odd idea. He knows how much I hate his parties.”

Dean nods. “What an odd idea, indeed,” he says, and thrusts his hips up a couple of times, hoping that Cas will move a little closer and press his body against Dean’s. Now, he’s even more jealous of Balthazar. The cunning old bastard is spoiling and humouring Cas so that he can ensnare him. Well, anything Bal can do, Dean can do better. He can’t offer slaves to Cas for his rope tying practice, but he can offer himself. 

Cas licks his lips, eyes suddenly fixed on Dean’s groin. He leans a little forward and then, the doorbell rings.

“Sam,” Cas gasps, moving quickly backwards and releasing Dean.

“Yeah, Sam,” Dean grimaces. His big cock-block of a brother... Who makes Cas cook vegetarian gulash, of all things. Why not a vegetarian pie? A nice peach pie, or an apple pie. That’s the kind of vegetarian cooking Dean loves from Cas. But instead of bitching about it more, he adjusts himself while Cas runs to open the door. It’s just Sam bringing books, and having dinner with them. In three hours, four at the most, he can go back to what he was doing. Making Cas stop seeing Balthazar.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean probably thinks that he has a tendency to elaborate, but that couldn’t be further than the truth. For example, tonight’s role-playing. There’s no real script and all the stage directions are simple. Dean is supposed to be Santa, and Castiel the child surprising him as he leaves presents. That’s all there is. 

There’s something about Christmas that just gets Castiel’s imagination going. Not that they’re religious; Dean was raised an atheist, and Castiel stopped believing in a god that demanded submission and claimed that slaves should obey their masters as soon as he started thinking for himself. Still, Christmas is special. They’ve put up a tree, decorated it and the house with glittering garlands and fake angels, and made gingerbread cookies. Dean even hums Christmas carols when he’s around and Castiel, showing some Christmas spirit, refrains from telling him all the inaccuracies and problems that concern Christ’s birth. 

Still, Dean is already downstairs, so Castiel should hurry and stop thinking about cookies and carols and ornaments. He puts on a pair of drawstring pants (for what child sleeps naked?) and an old tee-shirt that belongs to Dean, and goes downstairs. 

Dean, in total immersion to his character, is eating the cookies that Castiel had set earlier for him in the guise of Santa. “Mmm,” he’s moaning, “nice.”

“Santa,” Castiel whispers and tries to looked awed when Dean turns around, still munching and with his cheeks full, looking more like a chipmunk than a saint.

Dean swallows, starts coughing and gulps down half a glass of milk before he can speak. “That wasn’t so nice,” he says, “surprising Santa at work.”

Castiel stares. He’s even pouting a little.

“Well, since you’re here.” Dean makes a come here gesture. “Let’s see,” he says as Castiel settles on his knees, “Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

“I’ve been very nice,” Castiel offers.

“I can see that,” Dean says, one hand straying beneath Castiel’s tee-shirt. He pets Castiel’s belly. “Very nice indeed,” he says as his hand moves upwards, and his fingers close around a nipple. 

Castiel squirms.

Dean leaves him alone. “But I need to make sure. Let me check my list.” He takes a sheet from a pocket and scans it. “Hm... Castiel...” 

Castiel frowns. Castiel Nothing. Three more years, and then he’ll finally have a surname. He could take Dean’s surname as his own; many freed slaves do, but he’d rather take Dean’s surname for other reasons. Would Dean agree to marry him?

Dean taps Castiel’s nose. “Cas? You here?”

“Yes?”

Dean grins. The fake beard and hair can’t hide the brilliance of his smile. “I found you. You have been a very good boy this year, so Santa has brought you what you asked for. But, just to make sure, what is it you wanted, sweetheart?”

Castiel feels his cheeks burning. Even now, sometimes he blushes like a virgin, and he doesn’t even know why it happens. 

“Tell me, Cas,” Santa Dean insists. “I wouldn’t want to give you the wrong present. Not tonight.”

“A... A session of intense ass play,” Castiel whispers, feeling hot all over.

“That’s what I thought you’d asked for, baby. But because you’ve been naughty, interrupting Santa from work, I do have to punish you.” 

Cas nods. “That’s fair.”

“So, I’ll spank you ten times with my hand and five with my belt. Turn around and lower your pants, sweetheart.”

Dean doesn’t give him time to argue, so Cas turns, settles across Dean’s lap and lowers his pants as instructed. Being exposed makes him shiver, but then the first slap lands on his ass and he jumps. 

“Count and thank Santa like a good boy, Cas,” Dean orders.

“One. Thank you, Santa.” The slaps follow one another swiftly, making Castiel feel like he’s burning. He counts each slap carefully and by the time Dean finishes, he wonders how much more strength Dean will put behind the blows with his belt, because, damn, Dean is strong. “Ten. Thank you, Santa,” he whimpers.

“You’re not crying, are you?”

Castiel shakes his head. 

“Shame,” Dean grins, and when he hits him, the pain makes him cry out. 

“One. Thank you, Santa,” he gasps. By the third blow, he’s sniffling and by the fifth, he’s crying. 

“That’s my good boy,” Dean says, squeezing both ass cheeks in his hands. Then he rubs a cool ointment on him, making Castiel wince. “Shush, baby, that’s just cream. Cas, raise your ass up if you want me to give you your present now.” 

He does, slow heat curling inside him. 

Dean chuckles. “So eager for it, aren’t you?”

He nods. So that he could enjoy his gift better, he hasn’t let Dean penetrate him for two weeks, and he misses being fucked. “Please.”

“No need to plead anymore, Cas.” Dean presses a thin, cold tube inside him and he feels a cool liquid slowly filling him. “Olive oil,” Dean says in a hoarse voice. “Extra virgin. Only the best for you.” 

Castiel sighs happily as Dean rubs the oil inside and out, pushing up against Dean’s hand. He loves the feel of it against his skin, slippery and thick but not annoyingly so. He loves how it smells when it gets warmer, like summer air and sunshine. 

When Dean finally breaches him, he’s feeling mellow and soft all over, and that fake dick is the only hard thing about him. He makes a soft noise, but Dean understands him so well. 

“Don’t worry, Cas, I’ll give you what you want later.” Dean fucks him leisurely with it until Castiel wants to shout with frustration. “Cas, go and lean against the couch, baby, face away from me.”

Each step makes the dildo press against his prostate, and by the time he’s arranged himself, arms against the back rest, and legs spread open, he’s so hard, it will only take a couple more strokes and he’ll come.

“Not just yet, Cas,” Dean says soothingly, as he snaps close a ring around the base of his dick. “I’m not done with you.”

“You’d better not,” Castiel gasps. “I’ve been good.”

“Yes, baby, you have been very good,” Dean laughs as he takes the dildo out. “Here’s something else for you.” It’s another fake dick, bigger and thicker than the one Dean just took out. It stretches him, and yet, “I’m going to open you so wide tonight, baby,” Dean promises, “I’ll fuck you with my fist.” 

Castiel moans and pushes back. “Yes, please.” 

“Soon,” Dean whispers as he fucks that dildo in and out with precise, quick thrusts, “soon.”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“You think you’re ready?” Dean takes it out and presses something cold against him. A moment later he feels it opening and opening and opening, slowly but inexorably. “You like this?”

“Yes,” he sighs. They don’t usually play with specula, but when they do, he loves it. “More.”

Dean pushes a scoopful of lube inside him with three fingers. After the metal, his hand feels so soft and warm and Cas arches into the intimate touch. “More is good,” Dean says as he spreads it, avoiding his prostate carefully and making Castiel groan. 

When the speculum is out, Dean fucks him with yet another dildo. There’s a whirring sound and this time he’s fast, incredibly fast. “You didn’t,” he gasps.

“I did,” Dean laughs, stopping and showing him the modified power drill.

Castiel groans. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Nah. Where would the fun be in that?”


	11. Chapter 11

A little after Cas’ graduation from law school, they decided to take a break, and start seeing other people. Dean had missed the carefree days of sex without commitment, and Cas was curious about relationships. Within a year, they were back with each other. Cas because he found sex without love unsatisfying, and Dean because he missed the intimacy between them. Not that he would ever admit that; his excuse was that sex with Cas was more fun. 

Take playing Little Red Riding Hood, for example. None of his other playmates could pull off that perfect combination of innocence and sluttiness that Cas managed effortlessly. Nor could they make him laugh during sex the way Cas did. 

“And in a double bill, Dean, in the roles of the Big Bad Wolf and the Hunter,” Cas smiles as he gives him the wolf mask and the hunter’s vest.

“Are you sure we can’t just cut to the Hunter saving Little Red Riding Hood?” The mask feels warm and stuffy. 

“But think,” Cas says, embracing Dean, “as the Wolf, you’ll have me at your mercy, and then, as the Hunter, you’ll have my boundless gratitude.” 

“Damn.” He puts on the mask. 

With a kiss, Cas moves away. “Now, go upstairs and wait for me. Remember, you have already eaten my grandmother and you’re lying in her bed. I’ve left some more props for you there.” 

He groans. If Cas could afford it, he would stage elaborate productions. But then again, he never knows what to expect when he leaves things to Cas. So, when he finds a lacy head cap and a long, transparent nightgown, he puts them on with a smile, settles under the duvet and picks up the book Cas left for him. “Of course. The Grandmother would read The Female Eunuch. Haha, funny.”

He’s still reading a random page when there’s a knock at the door. 

“Come in,” he says.

“Hello, Grandmother,” Cas says seriously, putting down a basket. He wears a red hooded cape, a white top that leaves his midriff exposed, red shorts trimmed with white lace and white thigh stockings held up by a red garter belt. He even wears white high heels. 

“Hello to you too,” he answers, and he doesn’t even have to try to make his voice low. 

“Your voice sounds hoarse, Grandmother,” Cas tells him as he totters towards the bed. 

“I just have a cold, child. Why don’t you come closer?”

Cas nods and plops himself at the side of the bed. “My, what big ears you have,” he says scratching the fake ears.

“All the better to hear you with, my dear.”

“And what big eyes you have.” Cas keeps staring at him curiously, tilting his head a little to the side. 

“All the better to see you with, my dear.” Seriously, what sexual role-playing includes learning lines?

“And what big hands you have.” Cas, still staring at him, now plays with his hands, exploring their length and width.

“All the better to hug you with, my dear.” Dean surges up, grabs Cas and hugs him tightly. He wishes he weren’t wearing the stupid mask, because when he nuzzles Cas, he can’t feel the softness of his skin, he can’t smell his fresh, clean scent. 

“Oh, but what a big mouth you have, Grandmother.”

“All the better to eat you with, my dear,” he says, throwing Cas down.

Cas yelps, but Dean is now the Big Bad Wolf, and he doesn’t like crying. He rips Cas’ top in two and stuffs a piece into Cas’ mouth. While Cas pretends to struggle, he pretends to be stronger, and he ties Cas’ hands over his head. Then he settles between his spread legs. 

“And now I’ll have my feast, my dear,” he whispers. Cas looks at him fearfully, but he grins, takes off his head cap and mask and bites Cas’ shoulder. A muffled groan is Cas’ respond, and it sends his blood racing. “You taste so sweet,” he says, and then bites Cas’ chest. 

The nipples are next, and he grins at Cas as he licks the right one into hardness. Cas knows it too, and he shivers beneath him. Extended nipple play is out of the question, but a short, sudden bite – just like that – never fails to make him gasp and arch beneath him. Cas says something that sounds like ‘please’, but it’s all muffled, and Dean simply bites between Cas’ breasts. “Next stop, here,” he grins, and bites the left nipple too, making Cas shudder.

“Where next, pretty baby?” 

Cas shakes his head. “Ltmmmgm,” he whimpers, which probably translates as ‘let me go’.

“No way.” He runs his finger along the lace covering the top of Cas’ panties. “Your skin is so soft here. I bet you taste good.”

The next series of bites is along the taut flesh of Cas’ stomach. He makes sure to nuzzle Cas’ cock before and after each bite, and by the time he’s about to start along Cas’ thighs, he can see a damp patch on the sheer fabric over the tip. “Baby, we haven’t even started.” He tastes cotton when he mouths Cas’ cock, but it’s wet and kind of sweet too. 

He nuzzles the shorts away from Cas’ dick, releasing him for a moment, and swallowing him the next. Cas moans, and Dean takes him deeper. He loves the way Cas feels in his mouth, but soon he realises that he misses the way Cas tangles his hands in his hair and so, he pulls away. “I think it’s time for the hunter to make his entrance,” he says.

Cas nods, and thrusts his hips a little. Only knowing that he’ll be back there in a moment makes leaving Cas alone tolerable. 

“What do we have here? Die, you foul beast,” he says, pretends to aim, and then, “bang, bang, the wolf is dead,” he grins. “Gimme a minute, sweetheart.”

First he removes the makeshift gag, and then he unties Cas’ hands. “That big bad wolf won’t hurt you again, sweetheart.”

Cas springs up and hugs him tightly. “Oh, Hunter, thank you.” Cas makes Little Red Riding Hood seem related to an octopus, but soon it is clear that this is a horny octopus. 

“I think you’re very glad to see me, sweetheart,” Dean smiles. 

Cas blushes. “The Big Bad Wolf.... He touched me. I couldn’t help it,” he whispers, not meeting his eyes. “Do you think less of me now?” he asks quietly, looking at him shyly. 

“No, never, sweetheart.” Dean kisses Cas sweetly on the forehead. “Never, love.” He pushes him down once again. “That nasty Bad Wolf,” he growls, “he dared bite you.” 

Cas takes a deep breath. “Please, mark me, Hunter,” he finally says, oh so softly. “Make me forget his teeth.”

Dean swallows. “Anything, sweetheart, anything you want,” he replies and puts his lips on the first bite. The gentle kiss turns into something different, more possessive. Dean wants to replace the teeth marks with those of his lips, and so he does, sucking the skin furiously until Cas whimpers. 

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, just...” Cas takes Dean’s hand and guides it over his cock. “Please?”

Dean grins. “It will be my pleasure.”

Sometime later, when they’re both satiated and the Hunter has had ample proof of Red Riding Hood’s gratitude, he can’t help asking one last thing. “What was a pretty thing like you doing, coming through the forest and attracting the Wolf’s attention dressed like that?”

“Does that mean that you think I asked for it? Going through the forest alone, dressed in a skimpy outfit means I wanted to attract attention?” Cas’ eyes harden. 

“Shit, no, baby, I was just asking why you were out. Not that you were asking for attention.”

“Because, if anyone is to blame for attacking me, is the Big Bad Wolf. Not me. A person has the right to wear whatever they want without...”

Dean cuts him off with a kiss. “Yes, I know, I know.” 

“It’s a basic human right to...”

“Cas,” Dean cuts him off. “Forget it. I was just trying to be funny.” 

“Oh.” Cas’ expression changes. “Oh. Oh. Oh.”

“What?”

“I came to bring my Grandmother some fresh-baked pie.”

Dean shakes his head. Then, he gets it. “Oh. You mean?” 

“Outside, in the basket.”

Dean grins as he climbs over Cas. “Baby, you’re the best,” he says as he finds the basket, and opens it to find a slice of apple pie, a slice of cherry pie and one of chocolate. “God, I love you.” He brings back the basket. “And only one fork. God, I love you even more.”

Cas smiles and waits until Dean is back on the bed and under the covers. “Chocolate first?” he asks, burrowing against Dean.

“I don’t know.” Dean scoops some of the apple pie. “We could go from tart to sweet,” he says as he feeds it to Cas, “or the other way around.” He feeds Cas from the chocolate pie. “Or we could leave some for later.”

“How’s the cherry?”

Dean takes a bite of that into his mouth. Instead of swallowing, he kisses Cas, pushing the sweet inside his mouth. “What do you think?”

“Tart to sweet, definitely.”


	12. Chapter 12

Fisting someone is more than mechanics, more than using lots of lube and being careful with your fingers. It’s about trust. And it’s never been more about trust than at that moment, as he tucks his thumb against his palm, brings his fingers together, and pushes his hand inside Cas. They’ve never done this before, but Cas’ curiosity finally got the better of him. He had been so sweet when he first suggested it to Dean three weeks ago, and he’s even sweeter now, sweaty, moaning, and trembling with desire. 

It’s like a miracle, seeing his hand slowly disappear inside Cas. Feeling Cas’ hot and tight passage grasping him. “You look so fucking good like that, sweetheart. Do you feel how much I’m stretching you now? How does it feel, babe?”

“Good. So good. My nerves are all on fire.” Cas lowers his head again and groans. 

“Faster?”

“No. Slow, slow. I like how it burns.” When he moans, it’s like the sound comes from the base of his chest, all deep and rumbled. 

“Yes, Cas.”

Dean can’t look away from Cas’ impossibly stretched hole. It looks so perfect around him. “You swallowed my whole hand, Cas. How does it feel?”

“Good. So good. But, Dean,” Cas whines, “it’s not your cock. If you won’t fuck me....”

Dean laughs and thrusts shallowly for a few times. “I will, baby, I will.” 

“When? When? Stop teasing me, damn it.” 

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

“Yes.” Cas pushes back. “Please, Dean, I’ve been nice and good and patient and....”

Dean takes out his hand carefully, but before Cas can sigh and protest, he pushes his dick inside him. It’s wet and hot and sloppy, and it’s Cas, moaning sweetly the moment he feels Dean and clenching around him. It’s perfect. The sight is so much better; it’s like Cas was made for him, and he was made for Cas, two pieces of the same puzzle finally together. 

“Yes, Dean, please, fuck me. Harder, Dean. Please.”

With so much lube it’s easy to go harder. It’s easy to go faster, to snap his hips forward until he’s buried inside Cas and his balls slap on his ass. It’s easy to pull back and do it again and again, until his orgasm starts from the base of his cock and spreads to the rest of his body. And even in the midst of this white fire, he remembers to free Cas’ cock, and Cas arches against him, and howls out as he cums. 

It’s also easy to turn around, sprawl on the couch and pull Cas against him. What’s not so easy is persuading Cas to move, so they go can lie on the bed. In the end, Dean half-carries, half-drags him upstairs, almost throws him on the bed and by the time he’s cleaned himself a little and is back with a hot, moist towel, Cas is already buried under the covers. 

Not that he usually minds. He likes to see the usually fastidious Cas sleep covered in sweat and cum, even when they both become a sticky mess come morning. It’s like Cas carries Dean’s mark on him. But not tonight. 

“Come on, baby,” he says as he unwraps him. “Help me out here,” he says as he coaxes him into moving this way and that so he can wash him. “You don’t want to sleep on the wet spot. Not tonight. We used so much lube, Cas.”

Cas makes a strange sound. “Sleepy.” He allows himself to be moved to his side, however.

“I know, Cas, I know.” He can’t help pushing three of his fingers inside Cas; his hole is all red and puffy, well used and tempting him to go for another round. 

Cas moans, rolls on his back and spreads his legs. “Nice.”

“Insatiable slut,” Dean smiles, and passes the towel over Cas’ thighs. When he starts wiping him clean, Cas makes a sound like a purr. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes. Love you.”

“I know.” 

“Love me?”

“Yes, Cas.” He kisses the small of his back, throws down the towel and wraps himself around Cas. His dick nestles against Cas’ ass, and when Cas moves, they stay spooned together, Cas rocking himself a little against Dean. 

Dean continues to pet Cas until his breath evens out and he lies still. But Dean can’t sleep yet. It’s been ten years since Cas came into his life, but they didn’t celebrate that anniversary. The ten years of having Cas as a Companion will be worth celebrating, but he’s not going to remind Cas of his slavery. Cas never forgets it, anyway. And this... however fun it was, it wasn’t a gift worthy of his Cas. 

He could always free him, but he’s not ready yet. He can’t let him go, and his arms tighten around Cas at the thought. He could buy him a car, but he’s afraid that Cas will feel obliged to repay him. It’s bad enough seeing that Cas has started paying money into Dean’s account – money that he suspects are for paying him back the school fees, only he dares not ask, because he also suspects that Cas is trying to be discreet and clever about it, and so he lets him. 

Perhaps he’ll come up with a good idea in the morning. For now, he hopes that making Cas feel safe in his arms is enough.


	13. Chapter 13

The thought hits Dean as he’s ready to read out his vows. He looks at Cas, waiting for him to speak, and he can’t say anything. 

“Come on, you idjit,” Uncle Bobby whispers at him. 

Cas narrows his eyes. “I swear to god, Dean, if you have changed your mind now...”

“No, no.” His hands are shaking as he looks at the paper. “I just can’t believe we’re here. Right now. And I want us to be together for the rest of our lives. I wrote out my vows to you, but,” he scrunches it up, “what I have to say is simpler than that. I promise to love you and care for you and support you in everything, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. I’m just a man, Cas, and I’ll probably fuck up every now and then, and you know that I can be a dick, but....”

Cas kisses him on the lips. “Shut up, Dean.”

“Idjits,” Uncle Bobby tells them, half-smiling. “I haven’t told you you can kiss the groom yet.”

“Then say it,” Cas smirks. “We’ve both made our vows.”

“Fine. You may seal your commitment to each other with a kiss now. With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband.”

Cas kisses Dean passionately, holding on Dean tightly. It should be the most perfect kiss of his life, but he’s still thinking that he’d been a massive dick.

“Enough, you guys. This is a G-rated ceremony,” Sam laughs.

“Yeah,” Uncle Bobby pushes them apart. “it’s bad enough you made me officiate, do I have to watch you act like...”

“Right,” Cas says, looking slightly embarrassed and pulling away. 

“Can we go change now?” Dean whines – in a manly way. He hates dressing up, although he loves the way Cas looks in his tux. 

Sam snorts. Jess looks like this is the most romantic thing she’s ever seen and Uncle Bobby – well, he’s pushing them away from him. Dean glances at their friends as he takes Cas’ hand and leads him back to the house. They all seem glad for them, and he smiles at them a little. It’s like nothing matters anymore, that it’s all forgotten, and maybe it has been but he feels bad. Not about Cas, or their marriage, but about a lot of other things. 

“What’s bothering you?” Cas asks the moment he closes the door behind him, before Dean can even take off his stupid tie. 

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“If it were nothing, you wouldn’t have pulled away from me the moment I tried to kiss you.” Cas glares like he was trained especially for this.

“If you kiss me, I’ll kiss you back,” he tries with a smile he doesn’t feel. “And then we’ll be late for cutting the cake.”

“Screw the cake.”

Cas’ annoyance is not enough to stop him from imagining himself screwing a hole into their wedding cake. It’s a nice chocolate cake, rich and moist, and covered with a traditional white frosting, which should be... 

“Oh, my god, I married a pervert,” Cas sighs.

It’s supposed to be a joke, but it doesn’t sound like one. “That’s just it,” he says, feeling like someone threw cold water on him, and the cake. Cas frowns, and Dean can’t stand not telling him. “I am a pervert. Even now. But I was such a perv before. God, Cas, you were just a kid when...” He wants to throw up.

Cas snorts. “That’s it?” He’s suddenly in front of Dean, and pushes him down on the bed. “Now you’re feeling bad about it? Now it means nothing, Dean.” He straddles him, grabbing Dean’s head with both hands and trapping him under his gaze, fierce and absolute. “I forgave you, a long time ago.” 

“But, Cas... God, Cas, you were this tall,” he says, lifting his hand to what Cas’ height had been when he’d bought him. “And I...”

“Shut up, or we will be late for our party,” Cas growls.

Dean nods, but before Cas can move away, he grasps his wrists and keeps him there. “Can we start all over?”

Cas frowns. “No one can cross the same river twice.”

“Yes, but if you wait by the river long enough, you’ll see the body of your enemy floating by at some point.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s the only other river quote I know.” Cas stares at him as if he’s an idiot, but he still loves him. And maybe he is an idiot, and Cas definitely loves him. But that still doesn’t make what he did right. “Can tonight be our first time?” When Cas continues to stare, Dean sighs. “Forget it.”

“Like a game, you mean? Like, when we play doctor and patient, or doctor and nurse? Or when you are the Hunter saving Red Riding Hood from the Big Bad Wolf, or when I’m the Angel saving you from Hell or...”

“Yes, something like that,” he cringes. When Cas starts listing their games, they don’t sound either fun or sexy.

“So, you want to play ‘first time’?”

To nod or not to nod, that is the question. He sighs again, instead. “I want to pretend that ... we didn’t start the way we did. That we... that you...”

Cas’ expression finally softens. “I think I got it,” he says, serious and sweet. 

Dean smiles. “Thank you.”

“Now, get out of that tux and get into your suit before Sam comes looking for us.”

“But, Cas,” he wiggles, trying to get closer to Cas.

“No. No sex before the party.”

“But after?”

Cas smiles. “Afterwards, we’ll have sex for the first time as husband and husband. And even though we can’t start all over, we can move on, as we have done so far, and become better.”

Dean nods. He’s the older one, but Cas is more mature than him. 

“Now,” he kisses Dean on the tip of his nose, “get dressed or I will drag you down as you are, and I know how much you hate that ‘monkey suit’.”

“Yeah. When we renew our vows, can I be dressed like a priest?”

Cas almost smiles. “Now, Dean. You don’t want to keep our guests waiting. Besides, the sooner we get downstairs, the sooner we can retire. Afterwards.”


	14. Chapter 14

Every time Gabriel sees Castiel, he can’t believe that no one has put two and two together. Michael and Castiel have the same dark, messy hair, the same bright, blue eyes, the same nose. One day, something will happen, they will end up in the same room, someone will take a picture of them together (probably one where they’re both scowling at each other) and then the world will know their dirty little secret. 

“Castiel, let me introduce you to Mr De Angelis. Gabriel De Angelis. Brother of Raphael.” Crowley smiles pleasantly.

“Mr De Angelis.”

“Please, call me Gabriel.”

Crowley smiles, takes a step back and suddenly it’s just him and Castiel. “I’ve been following your career, Mr Winc...”

“Castiel, please.” His smile is a lot warmer now, though still tiny. 

“So, Castiel, as I was saying, I’ve been following your career and I would like nothing more than to support you in your campaign for a seat at the senate.”

“That is very... generous.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“You are Raphael’s brother. Family should support and help each other, yet you are offering me your help instead of backing him. Why should I trust you?”

Gabriel smiles. Castiel has a reputation for being so straightforward, he’s practically rude. “Raphael... can be difficult.” 

“That’s not a good reason.”

It’s a lot better than admitting that he’s decided to help his family after all this time. It’s a lot better than saying he was a coward, or confessing that he’s tired of the way Raphael and Michael think they’re the only ones who know what’s right. “If that’s not good enough for you, then....”

Castiel shrugs. “You may do as you wish. I would like to thank you for your interest, but I cannot accept your support. Not when it’s just the whim of a spoiled...” He grimaces, as if he realises that he’s being ruder than usual. “Excuse me.” 

Gabriel grabs his arm. He may be spoiled but he’s not whimsical. “No, listen to me. It’s not that.” 

Castiel frowns.

“You know how my parents were briefly divorced after Mother gave birth to Michael? And then Father married Raphael’s mother, and then divorced her, and went back to my Mother?”

“I do.”

“Well, what many people don’t know is that a few years later, when I was four, Mother had another child. A son. I think if it were a daughter, my parents would have raised her, but they didn’t need another boy. My Mother, being a good Christian, refused to abort the child. Instead, she kept it, gave birth to it and then, her Christian duty fulfilled, abandoned him.” Gabriel can’t look Castiel in the eyes. “I only had a baby brother for a little while, but I remember him still: he was tiny, with dark hair and big blue eyes.

“Then, years later, at a party, I met a slave boy. He was born on the same day as my brother, at the same hospital, had the same dark hair and blue eyes. I... haven’t been able to stop thinking about him ever since. What if that slave were my brother? What kind of horrors had my brother have to endure because of a stupid law? I...” He looks straight at Castiel and he really thinks people are idiots. Castiel has exactly the same intense gaze as Michael. The same attentive frown. “I stopped buying new slaves soon after. I freed my old ones a couple of years later. Well, couple of them still live with me, but that’s not the point. The point is, I want to make a difference but I’d much rather make love, not war. Or politics. But you,” Gabriel grins, “I think you’re a fighter, not a lover.”

Castiel snorts. 

“Is that a good enough reason for you?”

Castiel nods, reminding Gabriel of their Father, serious and kind at the same time. “Yes, it is. And, Gabriel? If you ever need help finding your brother, let me know. I don’t know how he will react but I think that he will be proud to call you ‘brother.’”

“Even though I haven’t done anything to help him?”

“Even so.” Castiel gives him a tiny smile. “If I could find my family, and have them acknowledge me even now I would be happy. Of course, then I’d probably burn their house down for abandoning me, but that’s another story.”

Gabriel laughs even though there’s nothing in Castiel’s expression or tone to suggest it was a joke. “And if your family was someone like me? Someone too scared to go against his family for the sake of a brother he never knew? What would you do?”

“Then, I’d understand.” He glances towards a man dressed in a dark, grey suit who looks distinctly uncomfortable and out of place. “Dean... he probably wouldn’t. He thinks family is worth fighting for, but sometimes, to protect your family, you have to do nothing. And what you’re doing now, well, I think that means a lot. Not just to me, but everyone else sharing these thoughts and beliefs.” 

“But, what if I knew who he was...”

“Yes, but you thought that you were protecting your family with your silence. Your parents.” Castiel’s expression is soft and considerate. “Really, what you are doing now, is more than enough. If I were your brother, I would forgive you, and be proud of you.” He smiles a little again. “You’ve finished your drink. Let me get you another,” he says, and almost runs away with Gabriel’s empty glass. 

Gabriel sighs. He really is a coward. Perhaps when the campaign is over he will manage to tell Castiel the truth. Perhaps....


	15. Chapter 15

Dean and Cas still like games but these days, their playtime has to be scheduled in. They have to be careful too, never leave any marks that can be exposed by a casual move, a collar accidentally pushed open, a sleeve carelessly rolled up. Cas is a public figure now, and people gossip about them so much already. 

But sometimes, Dean can’t help but want to play. Like when he sees Cas sitting in their bed, a laptop resting precariously on his thighs, his fingers tapping every now and then, his eyes darting across the screen like a busy bee looks for pollen, tracing familiar paths and discovering new ways. Cas is so focused, so quiet, so still, Dean doesn’t know if he wants to take him apart or if he wants to disrupt him and suffer the consequences. 

A moment’s hesitation and Cas takes away the decision from him. “Come here, Dean,” he says, and it’s a command.

Dean hides a smile as he crosses the room and kneels by the bed. Cas rewards him with a gentle caress, fingers lightly brushing his hair away from his forehead. Dean lifts his head up, and chases Cas’ hand. He wants to kiss those fingers, he wants to take them in his mouth and suck on them until Cas lets him suck on his pretty cock. 

Cas grins. “Later.” He goes back to typing, pretending to ignore Dean, but he’s smiling a little. 

Dean smiles back. He settles his hands behind his back, raises his back, lowers his head. Slowly he spreads his legs as he feels his dick harden. Submitting to Cas is exciting; he never knows when Cas’ control will snap and can never guess how Cas will react: will he tackle him on the floor? Will he pull him up on the bed? Will he spank him for his impertinence to disturb him while working? Will he make him come with kisses alone? 

Cas types away while he wants Cas’ attention on him. He wants Cas’ hands and his mouth and his cock. He wants. When Cas suddenly grabs his hair, Dean gasps. A quick glance at the clock shows him that he’s been kneeling there for at least fifteen minutes. When Cas pulls him up, his knees protest a little. “I’m getting old for this,” he mutters.

Cas shushes him. He spreads his legs, flexes them and balances the laptop on his raised knees. Dean crawls into the vee of his thighs, hopes that the heat from the laptop’s base won’t burn his hair, and takes Cas’ cock out of his boxers and into his mouth, waiting for his next order.

Cas’ cock is a warm, heavy weight that grows against his tongue and fills his mouth. It’s velvet soft, and Dean wants to suck him so badly, but he’ll wait. He’ll wait while Cas types and sighs softly in pleasure. He’ll wait while he feels warmth above him, and the world is reduced to this small, dark space between Cas’ spread legs, with the cottony, musky and fresh scent that is particular to Cas after he’s showered. He’ll wait until Cas orders him to do something, lick him delicately or deep throat him, or do whatever he wants. He’ll wait as long as he has to, because when Cas will play with him, it will be worth it. 

“One day, I’ll take you to my office, and have you keep my dick in your mouth while I’m working.”

Dean hums in excitement. He’s seen Cas’ desk; it’s a huge, old mahogany monstrosity. He can hide there and no one will see him. He can be Cas’ cock-warmer, as long as Cas wants him to. 

The laptop is suddenly removed from over Dean’s head, and Cas runs his hand through his hair. “Suck me, Dean. Make it nice and slow.”

Dean smiles. That’s exactly what he wanted to hear. That’s exactly what he wants. That’s exactly what he needs. 

&*&*

Cas likes fairytales and Dean likes bondage. The result is a compromise. The Big Bad Wolf ties up Little Red Riding Hood before he attacks her. Sleeping Beauty is woken up with a fuck, not with a kiss. Cinderella is first abused and then kissed all over. The Little Mermaid... well, that just means they have sex in the bathtub. 

Cas’ latest production is the story of Griselda. Dean finds Cas in the middle of the basement, dressed in the rattiest tee-shirt he owns and a pair of sweatpants that should have been recycled years ago. Griselda is a poor shepherdess, and appropriately Cas is surrounded by stuffed animals, that Dean has no idea how he obtained, and doesn’t want to know. 

“I am the prince of this land and my council orders me to marry,” he announces, feeling sillier than usual in his princely get-up, a velvet tunic with leather trousers and a long, satin cape from a Phantom of the Opera costume that Cas probably ordered online. He examines Cas. “You will do.”

Cas looks up confused. He does confused well, tilting his head to one side and frowning just a little bit. 

The prince is an impatient bastard, though. He grabs Cas and pulls him up. “These rags won’t do,” he says as he strips him roughly. He then drags Cas around, until they reach his ‘castle’, the mattress. For the occasion, Cas has it covered with new sheets, and piled it high with fluffy pillows and a fluffy duvet. Cas’ new clothes are in a box on the side, and Dean is excited with curiosity. “Put on your new clothes, wife.”

Cas opens the box slowly. He’s such a tease as he reveals long, white silk stockings, and matching garters, and even more of a tease as he puts them on slowly and carefully, looking up at Dean through his lashes every now and then. The panties are a pair of flimsy briefs, made of a blue pale lace, and on top Cas wears a short white nightgown with pale blue lace trimmings. “Does this please you?” he asks quietly. Griselda is a timid thing, after all.

“Immensely.” Dean stares and Cas looks down. He straightens and tries to lower the nightgown, although it’s so short, all his effort is useless. He smirks. “Yes, you’ll do well,” he says as he shows Cas the final thing to finish his transformation from poor shepherdess to prince’s wife. 

The collar is a thing of beauty. It’s a thin, silver circle, plain and simple, perfect for Griselda, and even more perfect for Cas. He puts it around Cas’ neck. “This is a symbol of my ownership. Do you accept it?”

Cas nods. “I do.”

Only then does Dean lock it. “You now belong to me,” he says. While Cas waits, he takes off his cloak and tunic. “Come, it is time to show you to my council,” he says as he attaches a leash on the collar and pulls. 

Back in the day, Dean would have arranged for a real audience for this. He’d have invited friends and other members of the Hunters’ Society to watch as he humiliated Cas, and then he’d have them fuck him. Not anymore. Cas doesn’t like it and, well, Cas on all fours crawling behind him is a sight he doesn’t want to share anymore. 

“Here, this is your throne,” he says when he stops in front of two chairs. The first is a normal chair, for him. The other has a dildo stuck on top. “Sit,” he orders Cas.

Cas obeys him, taking off his panties in one smooth motion and sitting slowly on the fake cock. “It hurts,” he whimpers. “It’s so big.”

“Not as big as this,” he says, taking out his dick. Dean waits until Cas is fully seated on the chair. “Now, suck.”

It takes some wiggling, but Cas manages it. His mouth is tight around Dean’s cock, and wet, and warm. 

“That’s just perfect, wife. I knew I’d chosen well. Suck it. Deeper. Deeper. Let me help you.” He pushes Cas’ head down until he feels Cas’ nose against his groin. “That’s a good girl. God, the mouth you have. Your lips look so good around my dick. Your tongue. Use it more. That’s it.”

Cas has a talented mouth, and when he does that little thing with his tongue, that tiny, flickering thing, Dean has no control over himself. His pleasure crests and crashes, and if he could bury his dick inside Cas he would do it, if he could fuse them into one, he would do it, but all he can do is hold Cas’ head down as he shudders and comes. 

“That’s a good girl,” he says happily, and then makes Cas hold his cock in his mouth until it’s time to retire. 

Griselda is a big production. There is an act 2 planned for the next day.  
&*&*  
The next day is time for Griselda’s married life. When Dean goes down in the basement, his Griselda is waiting for him seated on the edge of the mattress, dressed in black sheer stockings and a dark blue babydoll that matches the blue of his eyes when he looks up to him. Cas wears nothing underneath the flimsy garment. His cock is hard, and there is a tiny stain where the head presses against the fabric. 

“You’re such a naughty wife. Are you so excited to see me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, husband.” 

The prince, according to the tale, could not believe his luck that he’d found such a sweet, obedient, virtuous wife. Instead of feeling happy, he felt anxious, and he punished Griselda to see when she would disobey him. First he took away her clothes, and her jewellery, and then her children. Dean can’t do that. But he can still doubt and be punishing. “Show me your cock, wife.”

Cas lifts up the hem of his nightgown and holds his cock in his hand. It’s clear he tries hard not to caress himself.

“Lie down.”

When Cas does, Dean sits beside him. “You’re so naughty,” he says, “wanting to feel pleasure without me.”

“It’s not so.”

“Shush, sweetheart. If I say so, it is so. Is it not?” He traces Cas’ collar and Cas nods, staring at him. Cas stays silent, even when Dean puts his wrists into cuffs attached near the ends of a spreader bar, and ties his ankles together. He doesn’t speak, even when Dean secures Cas’ bonds and Cas can’t move away from him. “You’re still hard, darling,” he comments as he traces the vein along Cas’ cock. “Good.”

The first slap makes Cas yelp, but he manages to control himself afterwards. Until Dean takes a light flogger, and then Cas cries out again. “Shush, wife. This is to teach you restraint.”

Cas jerks in his bonds each time Dean hits him, and his shouts turn into hoarse sobs as Dean continues to punish him relentlessly. “Just a bit more,” Dean promises, and he keeps hitting until Cas’ cock softens pathetically. “Whose cock is this, wife?”

“Yours, husband.”

“So it is.” Dean shows a steel cock cage to Cas and puts it on immediately afterwards. Cas’ cock is an angry red that seems to burn between the steel bars. “Now you won’t be naughty again.” 

“No, husband.” 

Dean climbs over Cas. He presses his cock against Cas’ lips. “Open your mouth, my darling wife.” 

When Cas obeys, Dean pisses on him. It’s not like he hasn’t noticed from the start that Cas has put plastic sheets on the mattress. Cas shudders, arches his back, and with eyes closed, sighs and tries to swallow. Dean directs the stream of urine into Cas’ mouth, but some hits against his jaw, and what Cas can’t swallow, flows down his neck. 

“My sweetheart,” he says when he finishes and unties Cas. “Come with me.” Cas crawls behind him when he moves, and sits by his feet when he sits on the chair that’s supposed to be his throne. Without being told, Cas takes Dean’s cock in his mouth, closes his eyes, and goes still. When Dean starts caressing his hair, his expression turns blissful. “What an obedient wife,” Dean marvels. 

He’ll test his Griselda more the next day. 

&*&*

On the third evening of their play, Dean spanks Cas and then he fucks him. Cas writhes prettily as Dean opens him up, and he moans brokenly while Dean thrusts inside him, his grip leaving bruises on Cas’ sharp hipbones. His cockcage stays in place, and when Dean’s done, he makes Cas lick him clean, and then he slaps his balls for being such a slutty wife and making such noise. 

&*&*

On Thursday, the fourth night of their game, Dean has to give his Griselda the cruellest of tests. Just like the prince in the tale repudiated his wife and brought a new bride to his home, so Dean comes downstairs, followed by Alfie, a tall, lanky young man twelve younger than Cas. 

Cas wears nothing but his collar and his cock cage. When he looks up, his surprise is not faked. “Husband?” he whispers.

“Wife,” Dean grins. “You’ve been a good wife, haven’t you?”

Cas nods. “I’ve tried to please you as much as I can.”

“But you know you’ll never be enough for me, don’t you? You’re getting old, wife, and I need young, fresh flesh to satisfy me.”

Cas’ eyes flash with anger, but a moment later, he lowers his head. His Cas is not unlike Griselda. He’ll play the game until the bitter end. 

“Before you go, though, you must do this one thing for me. Teach my new pet how I like to be pleased.”

Cas sighs. “As you wish. But you must free my cock, husband, if you wish me to teach him properly.”

This time it is Dean that obeys, and the he sits down. 

The change in Cas is instantaneous. “Kneel,” he orders, his voice low and harsher than usual. It’s his commanding voice, and even though Dean is not in a submissive mood, he still feels a frisson of excitement. 

When Alfie kneels and Cas traces his lips, sliding his thumb between them, Dean feels slightly envious. “Hands behind your back, pet. Open your mouth,” Cas says, “and keep still.” 

Cas is relentless. Alfie gags, drools, wheezes, wants to move away, but Cas holds him in place. “My husband can be rough,” he says. “You must relax your throat. Relax your body. Relax your mind.” Cas pulls away. He stares down at Alfie. “We’ll try again. When you’re ready.”

Alfie looks up, and they stare at each other. Cas breathes calmly and after a while Alfie starts breathing with him. They’re beautiful, in a different way. Alfie is full of energy, but Cas is powerful. His strength is not just physical, and Alfie seems to know that. After a couple more minutes, he nods slightly and opens his mouth again. 

Dean lies back, enjoying the show. Cas is rough and his tone is strict, but everytime he pulls back and starts again, Alfie can take a bit more down his throat, and keep the dick inside his mouth for longer. 

Ten, fifteen minutes later, and Alfie grabs at Cas’ thighs not to push him away but to pull him closer. Cas smiles and throws him down instead. “Spread your legs for me, pet. That’s a good boy. Let me show you how it’s done,” Cas grins as he kneels between Alfie’s legs and lowers his head. 

Dean stands up so he can watch them better, although the way Alfie shivers and bites back a scream as he almost jumps up, alerts Dean to what Cas does. Still, he looks, and sees Cas’ clever tongue slip inside Alfie’s hole for a moment, retreating the next and caressing the tight ring persistently. “Relax,” Cas whispers. “You must learn to accept pleasure, pet. That’s where the fun is.”

Alfie screws his eyes shut. “God,” he groans as Cas licks him again. Alfie comes undone while Cas remains focused. And Cas hasn’t even fucked him yet. Alfie is such a sensitive thing. 

Dean slips behind them. “Fuck him,” he says. “Open him up with your fingers and prepare him for me. Teach him how to be good for me.” He unlocks Cas’ collar. “You can stay the night, afterwards. If you want.”

Cas stops, cranes his neck and stares at him. He looks hurt. He is hurt. But then he nods, and uncaps a small bottle of lube to slick his finger. “I will. Husband.”

“Thank you. Wife.”

Cas goes back to preparing Alfie with the tiniest of sighs and Dean wonders if the prince had ever felt shame or regret for putting Griselda through such grief.

&*&*

The next morning is awkward. Dean prepares enough breakfast for ten people, not for three, as he waits for Alfie to wake up and Cas to finish his shower. When he hears footsteps behind him, he smiles. “I made coffee.”

“I’ll have some in the office,” Cas tells him, voice clipped and sad at the same time. When Dean looks at him, Cas looks away, and his eyes look bruised, with dark, bluish circles underneath. 

“I made you pancakes.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“There’s also yoghurt and fruit. And that disgusting granola you like.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“How about some pie?”

Cas glares. “’How about some pie’, he says. Look, I wish you all the best with your pet, but I’m here only because my taxi hasn’t arrived yet. I’ll have someone come later to pick up my things.”

“Cas, stop it.” He tries to embrace Cas and is not exactly surprised when Cas punches him. “Cas.”

“Don’t you ‘Cas’ me. That was a rotten thing to do, Dean. Breaking up with me while...”

“’Morning,” Alfie tells them suddenly, looking well-fucked and well-rested as he walks into the kitchen. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Cas mutters. “Fucking taxi is late.”

Dean sighs. “Cas. Meet Alfie. Alfie, Cas.”

Alfie almost bounces in his hurry to shake Cas’ hand. “It’s such an honour, Sir. I’ve heard so much about you and, well...”

If Alfie weren’t holding Cas’ hand still, Cas would surely punch him again. Dean smiles. “Alfie is one of Balthazar’s new pets.”

“What? A slave?” Cas pulls away as if burned.

“No, no,” Alfie says. “I am...” He smiles, sweet and hopeful. “I am a submissive,” he says in a lower voice. “I want to be treated like someone’s property, but I am not a slave. I’m free, and this is my choice,” he adds proudly, staring at Cas. “Sir, your speeches have inspired me to be myself.”

Cas still stares like everything is confusing, so Dean pushes a cup of coffee into his hand and then guides him to sit down. He gives another cup to Alfie, and is not surprised when Alfie sits by Cas’ feet, leaning against him like a cat. “Balthazar doesn’t keep slaves anymore; he recruits natural, free subs.”

“Who are grown naturally in the wild,” Cas mutters.

Alfie snorts. He rubs his cheek on Cas’ leg. “Indeed.”

“I’m sorry, Cas. Balthazar would have asked you himself to train Alfie, but since you’re not speaking to him anymore....”

“He’s still a slave owner. And I won’t rest until all slaves are free, and slavery becomes illegal. Only then will I speak to him again.”

“Still, Alfie is one of the most promising subs at the Lodge. Balthazar thought it would be good for him to learn from you and...” Dean signals at Alfie.

“Yes, Sir. It was an honour.” Alfie blushes. “I’ve never been fucked before. It was...” He lowers his gaze. “Thank you, Sir.”

Cas looks even more stricken. “You shouldn’t do it like that. Your first time...”

“Was everything that I imagined, and more,” Alfie says when Cas doesn’t continue. “You are my hero, Sir. Do you know what it was like, growing up knowing that I wanted to be possessed, and yet, because I was free, I was told I had to be strong and own slaves? I was living a lie. But then you were elected at the Senate and spoke against slavery, and I realised that it doesn’t matter what status we have when we are born. What matters is what we do with our lives. And I wanted to be a teacher, and have a lover who would have me, in every sense. But...” Alfie smiles. “Do you know how hard it is for a freeborn to say openly that he wants to submit to another? Relinquish his ‘god-given rights’ and be ‘like a slave’? It’s very hard. If it weren’t for the Lodge, I’d still be locked up at home, with my father trying to beat some sense into me.”

When Cas’ phone rings, Dean turns it off and Cas doesn’t protest. “Have some pancakes,” he says instead, and this time, Cas smiles sadly. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“You weren’t playing,” Cas whispers, looking at Alfie.

“I’m sorry.” A moment later Dean realises that Cas doesn’t understand. That Cas still looks hurt and miserable and, damnit, he already said he was sorry, didn’t he? “Cas,” he sighs. “I was. Remember, you told me to improvise because this play would take up most of the week and you didn’t have the time to write my lines for me?”

Cas frowns.

“So, erm... I improvised. The prince made Griselda train his supposed new bride, didn’t he?” 

“You bastard,” Cas mutters.

“It’s not like we have children.” Dean grins. “But... since you’ve been so good and obedient and...”

“I’ll kill you later, when there are no witnesses.”

“But I heard you threaten him,” Alfie laughs, not realising that Cas isn’t joking.

Cas snorts. “It will be your word against mine.”

“My brother is your lawyer,” Dean protests. “You can’t kill me.”

Cas’ answer comes in the form of a cold, furious glare.

“Ok, if you just wait a minute.” Dean runs out of the kitchen and goes straight for the garage. If this won’t make Cas calm down, he doesn’t know what will. He puts down his present on the kitchen table when he’s back. 

“A box? You acted like .. I have no words to describe how you acted, and you give me a box?” Cas shouts, and only Alfie’s clinging on his leg prevents him from getting up and punching Dean again. 

“Open it.” 

Cas snorts, but reaches for the box and opens it while glaring at Dean. And then, just as suddenly as he stopped being hurt and he became angry, he stops being mad and he stares in wonder.

“The prince gave Griselda her daughter back, but all I can give you is a cat.” Dean smiles as Cas takes the cat out of the box carefully. She’s a pretty grey tabby that regards Cas with solemn curiosity as he lifts her up. “She’s two years old, and very well-behaved. Even though she’s stil playful, she’s not as energetic or needy as a kitten and so she’ll fit better in our household, especially with your busy schedule.”

“Dean,” Cas whispers, while the cat settles across his arms. “You know how I feel about animals.” Cas wants the cat as much as the cat wants him, but his expression is clear. Ideals much come first. Slavery is unacceptable and that applies for all creatures great and small.

But Dean has taken that into account too. “She was abandoned at a shelter, Cas. She’s never known another life than as a pet, and if no one adopted her, she’d be put to sleep.”

“She’s a beauty,” Alfie smiles as he stands up. “Sir, it was an honour,” he says once more to Cas. “Sir, it was a pleasure,” he says to Dean. “I’ll see myself out.”

Dean shakes his head. “He’s going to be a handful.”

Cas is still staring at the cat. “Dean...”

“Forgive me, Cas? Please?” 

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go get her things, and then I’ll take care of you, Cas.” This time, when Dean hugs Cas, he’s not pushed away. “What is the point of bondage, if there’s no aftercare?”

Cas grins. “I’ll take the day off. But you’ll cook for me. And cuddle me. And massage me. And...”

Dean, on his way back to the garage, doesn’t hear the rest of it but he suspects what Cas says. Even better, he knows what Cas needs, and he has the rest of the day and the weekend to make sure Cas gets it. First they’ll get the kitty settled and then, he’ll give Cas a bath, and wrap him up in fluffy towels before taking him to bed. He’ll make him peppermint tea and offer him honey biscuits. He’ll even share granola with him. And he’ll make Cas forgive him, and love him and never leave him but first, he’ll kiss him on the lips, just like that, and say, “Happy Anniversary.”


End file.
